Countdown To Extinction
by The Lobster's Claw
Summary: The sequel to my first story, "The Extinct Ally". Now, after Angvard's successful invasion, Eragon and Saphira are held prisoner and must stop the god of death from succeeding in his true purposes... Cover artwork shows a pretty close representation of Angvard, except without a crown and Angvard does not have wings in the story.
1. Chapter 1

_**So, here is the official sequel to my first story, "The Extinct Ally". As everyone knows, I finished that story with the conflict unresolved, and I intend to do this with this story. Also note that the chapters for this story will be noticeably longer than those from "TEA"(The Extinct Ally). Also, if you want to know more about the series that this story and "TEA" are apart of(The Rise Of Extinction series), check out the Extinct Allypedia wiki.**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 1

_3 months after the ending of Extinct Ally;Feinster, Alageasia._

The streets were barren, with smoking rubble lining the scene. The once towering, majestic ruling castle of Feinster had slime-covered black tendrils crawling over the stone walls. The highest tower of the castle had been turned into an indescribably hideous watch-guard beast, it's single eye scanning the scene for anything that looked even remotely human.

The spirits were chanting some sort of inaudible incantation as they floated down the pavement, their ever-shifting colors making the scenery flash but it did little to brighten the mood as the flames licked the air while soot blackened the corpses littered around and inside the once glorious houses and mansions.

Daghelef floated in an indescribable, otherworldly pattern, bobbing up and down while humming a macrabaic tune that he had learned from the death god, Angvard, himself. The undead slaves, Arya and Thorn, followed close behind, although at the pace they were walking, they would never catch up if Daghelef sped up, which he usually did at Angvard's orders so as to torture his victims before executing them.

Just then, Daghelef heard a bizarre sound coming from behind a wall. It was small and incoherent at first, but Daghelef heard it a second time, and at that time, it was considerably louder. Daghelef shot out a harmless, small ball of white light to signal for Arya and Thorn to stop.

Daghelef floated up to the moss-ridden wall. Stopping a few short inches from the structure, he fired a flicker of light into the set of bricks. Near instantly, a great white fire blazed into existence and quickly consumed the wall. However, once the wall was entirely obliterated, the fire vanished into a mere stream of smoke, and revealed the one who had made the noise:a young human boy. Daghelef guessed that he was probably not much older then eleven years old.

"Please! Please, do not hurt me! I-I have lost my mother! She is dead! Please, if you can bring her back, I will forever serve you!", the boy wailed as Daghelef glared into him.

But Daghelef did not care. He had a job to do, and that job was to serve Angvard. And Angvard had specifically stated that Daghelef was the leader of the extermination squadrons and should Daghelef find a survivor of the physical realm, that survivor should suffer a cruel, painful death.

_Foolish, pathetic little physical realmer! You should have just fallen over and died when Angvard first came rather than cowering right here like the barbarian you despicably are! Now you shall discover what Hell is, in it's purest form!_, Daghelef hissed before he summoned the strength to begin a non-verbal spell. Due to the fact he was a spirit, it took less than the fraction of a second for Daghelef to complete the spell. With the summoning process finished, Daghelef created a white, spiritual serpent. It hissed and spat as the boy screamed, but no one came as the serpent wrapped it self around his body.

As it slithered upon the boy, it disintegrated his flesh and hair. The boy screamed and yelled but his flesh was gone within two seconds as his muscles and organs were burned into ashes. The last thing the boy saw was Thorn's scales before the serpent wrapped itself around his eyes and burned them out. The serpent vanished as the boy's bare skeleton fell to the ground.

Creating a white field of energy around the skeleton, Daghelef murmured some odd incantation as the skeleton shook and rattled before scuttling up, and the energy field vanished as the skeleton completely got up and looked around for a brief moment before walking forward and joining Daghelef at his side. Angvard would be excruciatingly pleased with this new addition to his army. With this, Daghelef commanded the skeleton, Thorn, and Arya to keep moving forward.

_-POV change-_

Eragon writhed in the room, the rusted brown chains

hissing as he moved and they kept pressing onto his torso. His eyes were shut by some sort of otherworldly clampers, his groans and grunts showing just how much of a pitiable state he was in.

Suddenly, he heard a pulsing he could not see it, Eragon then also heard the knob on the cell door turn. A loud _creeeaak_ was sounded upon as the door opened.

"_It is time for your meal, you ugly puddle of urine! I do not know why Angvard even tells me to give you this-you never even touch it, since you are such a spoiled physical realm brat!_", a cruel voice cackled as Eragon heard something drop onto the floor. It was the food tray.

The clampers covering Eragon's eyes were lifted. He saw that it was the same man from the past three days who had delivered the food. This man, the food-deliverer, was black. But that was only putting it mildly. This man was _entirely_black. Everything about him was black-his clothing, his hair(that is, if he had any, for Eragon could not see any), his arms, his face, his legs, and even his eyes were a menacing shade of pure black. The fact that there was no light whatsoever in the room made him appear as if though he were a mere shadow, without even a physical body.

"_Eat this, you hill of dung! Eat this, or I shall slowly tear your clothing off and let you stand naked in front of Lord Angvard for his entertainment!_", the man said as he took a glob of some unrecognizable food and shoved it down Eragon's throat.

Eragon choked as the food entered his mouth, his tongue attempting to stick itself to the roof of the mouth so as to spare the taste buds of the horror of the slime being shoved into Eragon's mouth, but it was no use, as the food had already entered the mouth and quickly pressed down the tongue.

Eragon's eyes widened and then suddenly shut as he swallowed the food, not even being able to chew. His mouth went dry as he took in the bitter and sour taste, his stomach retching as he spat several tiny remnants of food onto the mud-ridden floor.

"_You shall eat everything, so do not be such a spoiled child!_", the man hissed as he picked up the now mud covered food remnants and pushed them into Eragon's mouth. Eragon attempted to bite the man's fingers as the food was placed in, but just as his teeth came into contact with the man's purely black flesh, he cried out and pulled his teeth back as the shadows on the man's skin fought back.

Then, suddenly, an orb of light floated into the room and lit up the dark room. However, it was not a lantern being held by a person;it was a spirit, as Eragon could tell as it floated closer, for it had a range of multicolored tentacles swirling around it. The spirit was red and the size of a miniature boulder.

"_What do you want, Gourzier?Can you not see I am busy with the prisoner?_", the man yelled as he looked up, giving Eragon enough time to silently spit out the remnats of the food.

_It is urgent, Saibor, and Angvard himself stated that it cannot and will not wait. Lord Angvard stated he wishes to speak with the prisoner, and this one specifically_, Gourzier whispered as he reached out a tentacle towards Eragon's face to show the man that the "prisoner" Angvard wanted was Eragon.

The man, whose name was apparently Saibor, judging by what the spirit had said, turned back towards Eragon and bended over. He reached out his hand before slipping his fingers around Eragon's throat. Eragon felt himself being lifted, and as his feet were swept off the ground, the fingers around his throat were tightened and the veins on his neck bulged in response.

Eragon was being led through a vast, great hall, judging by what he saw through the spirit's light. As he was being led further, however, the area got brighter, and it was not because of the spirit;Eragon could see several torches flickering on the walls. The amount of torches on the walls grew as a noise that sounded as if though a conversation was going on. Saibor and the spirit suddenly swerved around a corner and Eragon saw a large room in front of them.

As they entered, Eragon could see the walls were a shade of gray that was nearly turning black. The floor was laid with a red carpet, but it was dark red, and covered with brown musk. Eragon looked to see what appeared to be a throne filled with skulls. Sitting on top of the wide, skull-ridden throne was a man cloaked in gray, his right hand holding what looked as if though it were some sort of scythe, and the man's face was completely hidden by the gray hood, and atop his cloaked head stood a crown. However, it was a disgusting crown, for Eragon could see eyes and tongues in it.

The man upon the throne looked up and took notice of Eragon. Eragon thought he saw a glimmer under the blackness of the hood, perhaps a flash of the man's eyes, but what it really was remained unknown, as the glimmer was gone in about a fraction of a second. Finally, the man spoke.

"Prisoner. Young one. Do you know who I am? For I know who _you_ are, but do you know who _I_ am? You most likely do not, for you are uneducated and taught only the most blasphemous crap known to any sentient creature. So, for that, I shall tell you who I am:I am Angvard, the human god of death, the ruler of the dead, the conqueror of realms! And for escaping from my clutches at first and for not knowing who I am, I shall have you executed. Guards! _Guards!_", Angvard screamed at the very top of his ghastly lungs, and as he did so, several men rushed in. No, not men, creatures, for their faces were twisted back and mutilated beyond the point of believability, and their flesh was scarred and covered with torn scales.

"Take him outside! He is to be executed in front of the crowd!", Angvard commanded as he pointed his long, gray, skeletal hand at Eragon's chest.

Instantly, the guards ran to Eragon and Saibor let go as the guards grabbed Eragon by his shoulders. Eragon was helpless as the guards quickly dragged him outside. He attempted to utter a spell, but Eragon could not do it. "BRISINGR!", he yelled, but no fire materialized. He heard one of the guards let go of him and walk up to the gate in front of them before he started talking in his own language.

Eragon heard a loud sound that sounded similar to a grinding noise as the gate opened. Eragon wished for light to pour in, but there was none. Eragon felt himself falling down several cracked steps as the guards carefully stepped down them.

There was nothing Eragon was able to do now. He had no weapons, he was being held and dragged by a mob of monstrosities, and he could not use magic.

The guards laid Eragon onto a wood table. One of them drew a black hood over Eragon's head, and Eragon's vision was blotted out. A loud cheer was heard as Eragon's end imminently drew, nearer and nearer.

_**End of the first chap. of CTE! Anything you want from the next chapter, just tell me in the Comments/Reviews section! R&R!**_


	2. The Shattering of the Company

_**This is the second chapter of CTE, and I'd love to hear some more feedback! It picks up right where the first chap of CTE ended. Also, it will include a POV from Voriadd's Lethrblaka! Plus, the 4th book of the Cycle releases Nov.8! So excited!**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 2

The cheering grew ever louder as Eragon awaited his execution at the hands of the monstrous guards, unable to see anything due to the hood pulled over his head.

"Loower de knifee!", one of the guards yelled in a corrupt, garbled rendition of the normal human language. The cheers of the crowd grew louder at the hearing of this. A grunting noise was heard as the knife-holder raised the blade and began to slowly bring it down.

_My life ends here. All those battles against Galbatorix, all those moments of Saphira flying high in the air with me upon her back, all of those things now being worthless and meaningless_, Eragon thought as he felt the blade slicing into his torso.

_-POV change-_

Voriadd's Lethrblaka gurgled on his own saliva as he attempted to move himself around the cramped black cell, his body cramped into a curled up position. He squawked into the air as he poked his beak slightly through the rusted bars, attempting to get a response from Eragon, or perhaps Orik or Saphira. He had heard the man who was apparently named Angvard speak to someone far away in some unknown, deep room, but who it was remained unknown to Voriadd's Lethrblaka.

Suddenly, he saw a white light creep in. It was coming from the end of the hall. It was very faint, very dim and low at first, yet as it traveled ever closer and closer, it grew in brightness. Finally, the figure with the white light came to the front of the cell-bars, and turned to face Voriadd's Lethrblaka. The Lethrblaka gasped at the sight of who it was.

It was Voriadd. But he was changed, different. The white light was pouring from his two eyes, now bold yet featureless. Black cracks and scars covered various parts of his face and his bare arms and his neck and throat. He merely grunted as he shoved the scraps of food through the cell-bars and onto the dingy floor.

_Voriadd! I thought you were dead! What has happened to you, what have these demons done to you? Please, Voriadd, answer me! What has become of you?_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka telepathically asked his former master as he saw him walk away, the white light from his eyes growing dimmer and dimmer as he left.

Voriadd's Lethrblaka was horrified and mesmerized at what had just happened. His master had been brought back from the dead, something he always wished for after Voriadd's death at the Battle of Aroughs, but he did not speak, and he had been morphed into a slave for these monsters. But Voriadd's Lethrblaka did not ponder long over this. He knew what he had to do now. He had to telepathically contact Saphira and tell her to, in turn, contact Orik and spread his plan. The Lethrblaka knew not where Eragon was, but their only remaining path now was to escape, and they would find Eragon in the process, even if the remaining three of them should lose their lives in the process.

_-POV change-_

Eragon felt the blade slice into his torso, blood pouring out onto his ragged clothing. He did not scream or cry out in pain-that would show weakness. But then, he heard a voice.

_Why are you going so slowly, you bastard?! Finish the pile of crap off quickly, and we shall then have only three more urine puddles left to deal with!_, a voice burst out.

It was Daghelef. Eragon's rage was lit and soon crackled into flames as he heard the voice talk about him and his friends like that. He roared out, his rage being violently unleashed as he threw himself up and off the the wood table, the blood-ridden blade flashing out as he threw his fist into the blade-wielding guard's throat. The creature gurgled as it crumpled down.

"_Stop! Get back onto the table and let _me _finish you off like the pig you are!_", a figure yelled. Eragon turned to see it was a man with hair created of literally flickering flames run toward him. But Eragon was too fast for him. He dodged to the side and slammed his elbow into the man's mouth . Blood flowed as if though water was being dumped from a full basket. Suddenly, as the man was about to hit the ground, he was lifted several feet into the hair, his long fiery hair completely hanging low as he was lifted. Then, with brute yet invisible force, the man was thrown back and he fell into the crowd.

_The boy is _my _prey, Ynkrhoan! Or, should I say, _Oromis_!_", Daghelef cursed as the man groaned.

That was all that was required to catch Eragon off guard. He had injured his own master and not even attempted to help him after he had been thrown.

Daghelef realized this as he fired a bolt of energy into Eragon's torso. Eragon went flying at the impact and he crashed into a porcelain statue, his bones being broken, the marrow poring out of them.

Then, he felt his energy seeping out. Eragon recognized this. It was one of the Twelve Words Of Death, and it was sucking out Eragon's life-force.

_You are weak, little Rider! I do not need to see scum like you in this new world, so that is why I shall have energy, and your life. Your soul shall be tortured within me!_, Daghelef taunted.

Suddenly, Eragon felt a memory snap back within him. The Vault Of Souls. His True Name.

"I am Eragon Bromsson, half-brother of Murtagh Morzansson, Rider of Saphira, half-brother of Orik the dwarf, friend of the elven Princess Arya, companion of the Urgal chieftain Nar Garzhvog, and close friend of the Ra'zac Voriadd and his Lethrblaka!", Eragon shouted with all his might left within.

Lights burst forth from Daghelef's orb body, his tentacles crumbling away. _What_- was the only thing he could say as he let out one final screech and exploded in a quick flash of light.

Then, Eragon saw a figure walk slowly toward him.

"My son, do not be afraid. It is I, your father, Brom".

_-POV change-_

They could not find Eragon. He was nowhere to be found in any of the remaining cells. But their escape plan had to go on, with him or not, and they knew this would be their final attempt at an escape, as Orik had looked into the throne room and there was not a single being within there.

Orik sat upon Voriadd's Lethrblaka's back, the first dwarf to ever fly upon a Lethrblaka. They were within the den that pointed upward toward the sky. Now was the right moment.

Without a sound, the Lethrblaka raised his wings and shot straight forward. Orik held tightly to the beast's neck, with Saphira following close behind.

Saphira was depressed that her Rider was not here. Orik had honestly searched everywhere, but Eragon was nowhere in the palace. He was most likely dead, gone, meeting some despicable end at the hands of these odd creatures.

With this, the Company was separated, and their paths were broken apart.

_**Just so you all know, in chap.3, near the middle, the story will then carry on into Volume 2 of CTE. Please R&R! And guys, if you want to know something or something confuses you, please ask or tell me in the Reviews/Comments section! Bye, for now!:)**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**This is the third chapter for CTE. Just to let you know ahead, this chapter will carry on into Volume 2 of CTE sometime in the middle of this chap. I plan for myself to submit this chap at least by Thanksgiving day. Enjoy, my fellow readers!:)**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 3

The soul of Brom grabbed Eragon's right shoulder. However, the touch was not cold and putrid like that of Saibor's, but warm and purifying. A rush of energy flowed and ebbed into Eragon's body.

"Come, my son. It is not safe for us to discuss important matters here at this wicked area. We shall be going elsewhere, to some place safer", Brom softly spoke.

"B-but, father, where shall we go, and what then shall we discuss of which is so important, as you say?", Eragon asked in response to what the soul of Brom had said.

"You shall see where we go when I take the two of us there. And as for those important matters, we shall discuss things that you have known of which have now been altered, and many new things which you shall learn", Brom answered.

Suddenly, Eragon's eyes were blinded as a bright white flash burst forth, and with this, the father and son were gone from Angvard's territory.

_-POV change-_

Angvard was in a pure, unmatched rage. He had just learned that Daghelef, the leader of his extermination squadrons, had been killed. Not just that, but when his guards had gone back to check, the boy named Eragon was nowhere to be found.

"WHAT? What is this blasphemous crap you speak to my very ears?", Angvard roared as he heard the news from the guard who was supposed to execute Eragon. The guard's voice was muffled and crumpled after Eragon had punched his throat.

"Well, mye loord, we hadd aoll attempteed to stop te booy, but he-", the guard was saying in response to Angvard's raging question, but whatever he had left to say was unknown as Angvard swung his scythe, hewing the guard's head off his neck in one slick, inhuman motion.

Another guard unsheathed his dagger and prepared to throw it into Angvard's forehead so as to avenge his fallen comrade, but suddenly, Angvard's gray cloak lifted and several black chains shot forward from beneath the cloak and wrapped around the dagger-wielding guard. The guard's screams and yelps echoed throughout the palace as he was slowly, painfully, literally being torn into pieces. The chains slid back underneath Angvard's cloak as a pool of red blood formed below where the torn apart guard used to stand.

"I send this as a message and a final warning to all and any;shall you attempt to retaliate, you shall join the chains below my cloak. In other words, resistance is futile. And with this, I shall choose the new leader of the extermination squadron", Angvard hissed, and with this, he issued forth the Great Darkness from Below, and this sent forth Angvard's First Battalion. The War of The Undead had begun.

_**-VOLUME II-**_

The dwarven mountains and tunnels were filled to the very brim, but not just with dwarves. Humans, elves, Urgals, and yes, dwarves, were all gathered within the supposedly safe confines of the dwarven mining tunnels and the Beor Mountains. Some were former soldiers of the Varden, some formerly of the Empire. The members of the Wandering Tribes were holed up in cramped, miniscule tunnels in the mountains. Even the practitioners of the religion of Helgrind, filthy, cannibalistic humans born out of barbarians, were accepted into the Beors. No matter how great their differences were, they were all accepted for the same reason-to escape the grasp of Angvard.

Voriadd's Lethrblaka and Saphira glided through the air, the Beors clear in their sights. Orik could not see, for he was certainly not as large as the dragon or the Lethrblaka, so the clouds blinded his eyes.

_We shall take refuge in those mountains_, Saphira spoke as she peered into the Beors.

_Why there? How do you know those mountains are safe?_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka asked as he suspiciously glared at the Beor Mountains.

_Because, I can smell the mountains from here. They do not have the cold, blood-soaked stench of that palace_, Saphira replied. She flapped her wings twice so as to keep herself gliding continuously.

A vulture cawed and flew through the air, but it's demise was met as Voriadd's Lethrblaka stretched out his beak and caught the bird by it's elongated neck, the creature screeching one final moment before Voriadd's Lethrblaka gulped the avian into his mouth and swallowed it down his throat.

Suddenly, a cold chill ran down Voriadd's Lethrblaka's neck as he felt a motion on his neck. His eyes suddenly flickered, his vision fading. He squawked as his vision faltered and his wings failed, the Lethrblaka's massive body falling toward the ground. Orik screamed in true terror as he was thrown from the Lethrblaka's neck.

_-POV change-_

Saphira saw Voriadd's Lethrblaka and Orik fall. She roared as she saw several bizarre black bird-like beasts fly through the air, several indistinguishable and hooded figures sitting atop them. She opened her maw and unleashed a torrent of blue flames. However, the torrent quickly vanished as her vision failed and she fell, fell down to the earth, her mind finally accepting death.

_**Well, Vol.2 of CTE is here. What do you think? And also, please guys, give me some more feedback in the Comments/Reviews section! Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!:)**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Alright, chap.4 of CTE is finally here! But before the story continues, I'd like to say two things:**_

_**.Freedom:it might be grim, but don't worry, the story will start to lighten up, starting with this chapter!**_

_**! Come on, people, I need more of your thoughts on this sequel!**_

_**With that said, here is chap.4.**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 4

Saphira groaned as she rocked here head back and forth. She slowly, painfully opened her eyes to see the herbalist, Angela, sitting in front of her, dousing a bruise in what appeared to be Vaseline.

"You should learn better than to fly together with a monster such as that Lethrblaka!", Angela hissed as the werecat Solembum, Angela's closest companion, prowled into the room.

_You still do not like Voriadd's Lethrblaka?_, Saphira asked as the werecat nested himself onto a purple cushion nearby.

"No, I do not, really. Ever since he and that ugly Ra'zac named Voriadd joined the Varden. But then again, the Varden has crumbled, and now we are just a menagerie of various other factions trying to escape these monsters".

_You mean Angvard's army, right?_, Saphira questioned.

"Er, yes, whatever you may call it. Anyways, the riders of the Krhn-ylkhl managed to save you, Orik, and that Lethrblaka before you could hit the Beor mountains and bust your skulls open. Orik is currently with the dwarves healers, while the Lethrblaka is being tended to by Trianna, that little whore who had sexual intercourse with the Ra'zac Voriadd", Angela answered as she grimaced at the mentioning of Voriadd having sexual intercourse with a human.

_Wait, the riders of what?_, Saphira asked in a puzzled tone.

"The riders of the Krhn-ylkhl. The Krhn-ylkhl are creatures bred by the Priests of Helgrind, and they were given to us by the Priests when they were fleeing from this army and came here. As you saw, they are large, black, and very bird-like, with our "codename" for them being "dragon birds", Angela replied.

_But how did the Priests breed these Krhn-ylkhl? They do not sound as if though they were naturally created_, Saphira asked and wondered

"Aye, they are not very natural at all. One of the elven warriors detected they were more than sixty percent artificial, and when that foolish elf tried to enter the Krhn-ylkhl's mind to see if it was friend or foe, he instantly fell retching onto the floor", Angela tisked. Solembum then purred.

"It appears as if though Solembum has something to say", Angela observed.

_Yes, I quite do have something to say, actually. King Grimrr Halfpaw, leader of the werecats, has been told by one of our werecat spies that this abominable army has been moving away from the capital of Belatona and to here, at the Beors_, Solembum stated in a rush.

This piece of news was particularly startling for the dragon and the herbalist. Saphira shivered at the thought that this safe haven, perhaps the final one, was to be besieged at any time soon.

"Well, then, if what Solembum says is true, then perhaps we should go alert everyone else here in the Beors", Angela said.

_No! To fight these demons would be a literal suicide attempt, and a clear wish for death! We do not have the power to fight monsters such as these!_, Saphira barked through her mental connection at Angela.

"So, you're basically stating we should just cower back here and give up like a child curls up into a ball and cries for his mother?", Angela spat as she looked in disgust at Saphira, and Solembum hissed and growled to show his agreement with the herbalist.

_I am not saying anything like that! I am simply stating that we do not have enough power, soldiers, and resources to fight these beasts! We cannot do this without outside help, and even then, we shall be outnumbered by at least five-to-one!_, Saphira recounted as she grew irritated toward Angela.

"Well, if we shall be outnumbered, we might as well make the most out of it. Solembum, go report to King Halfpaw, and tell him to go prepare for battle."

_-POV change-_

Voriadd's Lethrblaka sat gazing at the stone ceiling, his eyes partially blinded by the flame-less lanterns. He felt his wings ruffle as Trianna uttered a healing spell in the Ancient language. He felt the open, bloody gash on his stomach slowly begin to seal up as another spell was said.

A bruise in his lower beak was all that remained to be healed as a soft _click _was heard, and the door in front of the Lethrblaka opened. Judging by his robes, he was a member of the Du Vrangr Gata, the order of magicians that had served the Varden, of which had now fallen.

"I am sorry to interrupt you at this hour, Lady Trianna, but it is of a quite urgent matter that is incapable of waiting", the magician rushed.

"Well, what is it, then? Can you not hurry it up, for I have a wounded creature obviously waiting in dire need here!", Trianna barked at her lowly underling.

"If you wish, Lady Trianna. There is a report that a mass army of these foul demons is marching from Belatona to here at the Beors, and our army is to move out to the front of these mountains to protect the Beors, and the whole of Du Vrangr Gata, including you and me, are to come and fight. King Orrin and the now fully recovered dwarf King Orik have also requested that this Lethrblaka come and fight with us", the magician told.

"What? Are you telling me that King Orrin and King Orik want me, the powerful leader of the Du Vrangr Gata, to come risk my life against these abominations? Well, then I certainly say no, for I have seen the true might of these monsters when the Varden fought against them and fell at Gil'ead, and I shall never forget how many troops we lost at that city! 370,000 men lost at that city against those beasts! And I, for one, shall not fight side by side with these Empire soldiers and these ugly Priests of Helgrind!", Trianna shouted at the top of her lungs as she stepped toward the magician as he was leaving the room.

'Well, you will have to, otherwise you shall be replaced as the leader of the Du Vrangr Gata if you cannot lead us in battle", the magician said as he stepped out of the room.

"Replaced? By whom?", Trianna screamed, as she struggled to grasp the concept of being replaced by another figure.

"Why, replaced by none other than Angela the herbalist", the magician scoffed as he finally left and shut the door behind him.

_-POV change-_

_What do you mean you cannot find me any undamaged armor? I am heading into battle, and you say that there is no dragon armor that is not damaged?_, Saphira asked as Orik told her the news.

"I am sorry, Saphira, but there is no time to forge new armor, and your scales are already thick enough to resist most weapons that are not of flame or magic", Orik grumbled as several thousand dwarves marched past him, black, bejewled axes and war hammers and gold-plated shields carried by them all.

_Well, what about Voriadd's Lethrblaka?_, Saphira asked as she gaped at the hundreds of Urgals-most of them Kulls-trudge forward, their black, leathery armor glinting in the view as the werecats, most in their human forms and armored like regular humanoids, trailed behind.

Orik chuckled. "Saphira, you know that, even as Voriadd as a member of my clan, the dwarves have never made armor for such creatures as the Lethrblaka, for we have never really had a connection with them like the dragons", Orik grunted as he he marched straight forward. "Besides, there is no time left to dawdle, as I have received a mental message from Voriadd's Lethrblaka that the leader of his platoon, the dwarf tactician Raugnard, has spotted several brutish figures emerge from the gray fog before them. We must hurry. Battle awaits".

_-POV change-_

Voriadd's Lethrblaka stood upon the ground, his black, rimless eyes moving from side to side as the talk died down, and several brutish, slime-covered, scaly humanoids crept forward.

"HALT!", the leader of the monsters cried in his thick, twisted accent, his troops stopping shortly behind him, their bodies protected by nothing but the thinnest of brown leather jerkins.

"On thes day, te Loord Angvard makes a rekuest-surrendeer, and you sall enjoye te finest richess and serve in hiis empiree oof glory, or ceep on fiting, and youe shall all end up with no heds on youre neecks", the commander growled in his ugly perversion of the common human language. "Make youre choyces quiklye", he grunted shortly afterward.

There was a deadly silence all over the land. Not even the birds were chirping, and the wind had been frozen in motion.

Then, with hatred, an arrow flew into the commander's left eye, dropping him instantly. It was the shot heard 'round the world.

A cavalry soldier threw a spear into another soldier's stomach, and the beast gasped as blood flowed from his mouth, and he fell down shortly afterward.

A roar was heard as Saphira came swooping down, her maw open and unleashing a pillar of blue flames, which consumed around a quarter of the monstrous soldiers in front.

The human and elven archers coated the tips of their arrows in pitch black tar before setting them alight, and the flaming arrows flew into the air before they landed and screams of agony filled the air as the soldiers of Angvard fell thrashing to the ground, their leather jerkins catching fire, their torn-up flesh turning to ashes.

Two Krhn-ylkl soared high above as they dropped boulders upon the demons.

_Well, then, it appears this shall be a short battle_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka hopefully thought as he saw the creatures run and thrash, disorganized. Those thoughts were soon crushed as he spotted Thorn in the air, his ruby red scales glittering as the monsters cheered at his coming.

_-POV change-_

_This is not a fight you shall win, soul-less one!_, Saphira thought as she flew toward Thoran, his body somewhat dented and cut up with black scars, bright white lights glowing and filling up his eyes.

She flew toward him, but Thorn was too fast, and he flipped to the side, where a large beak suddenly impaled his left side.

Thorn flinged himself off the beak to reveal Voriadd's Lethrblaka, and he sprayed a jet of red-hot flames, but Voriadd's Lethrblaka dodged just as Thorn did, and a troop of Angvard's soldiers were instead engulfed in the fire.

However, even if it was accidental, this small act of defiance for Angvard suddenly put Thorn's soul literally back into him, his black scars growing shorter until they were virtually non-existent. The dents on his scaly flesh puffed out until his skin was perfectly lined up, and the white lights in his eyes grew dim until they were gone and redness filled his black-pupiled eyes.

_What happ-_, Thorn was saying, but he was cut short as a group of creatures ran toward him.

"Angvard shall hafe his vengence on thes tratur of filth!", one of the beasts roared as Thorn quickly lifted and swiped his paw, the talons turning red as they dug through the chests of the soldiers, and the roars and yells of the group went silent.

"The red leezard has betrayd us! We muste keel hiim!", a creature screamed, but no one took any heed of this. The soldiers of Angvard were running and screaming, their bodies either being immolated by Saphira's and Thorn's flames, crushed by the dropped boulders of the Krhn-ylkl, or simply torn to shreds by the beak and gnarled fangs of Voriadd's Lethrblaka.

"We must retret! Retret back to the palase of Angvard! Fall back, back!", a beast shouted, but he had no need of saying this, as the soldiers of Angvard, members of the most powerful and most fearsome army the world had ever yet seen, retreated and were beaten by a ragtag military of only several 10,000 soldiers.

"We have won! The monsters of the underworld have lost, and we have won!", Orik cheered as all of the others around him joined into the celebration.

But pushing the soldiers of Angvard back was not in the least their greatest victory here at the Beors. Their greatest victory here at The Battle of the Beors was reclaiming Thorn to their side. Thorn was back.

_**Yes, Thorn, my favorite Cycle character, is finally back to the good side! I told you the story would start to lighten up from here! Oh, and me and my cousin are making a movie for some time in 2012, and I am making plans to email EA games(Electronic Arts) to ask for a game adaptation of "The Extinct Ally"! But it will be more of a prequel to "TEA" than a full adaptation. Guess we're gonna have to wait and see when the game comes in Holiday Season 2012! R&R, and Merry Christmas!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Alright, here is Chap.5 of CTE. Please note that this will be the only chapter of Volume II of CTE with a perspective from Eragon. Also, I will include an infamous line from a very famous 1979 war film. If you can guess which movie this line will be from and post the correct answer in the Reviews/Comments section, I'll update early! Here is chap.5 now!**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 5

There had been no rest for the rebel army after their victory at the Beors. No time for welcoming Thorn back. No casualties in the first battle meant higher morale, and higher morale meant the next battle was to come soon. That next battle was now.

"CHARGE!", the second-in-charge dwarven tactician Raugnard bellowed, and with that, the steel battering ram slammed into the locked gates of Feinster.

The soldiers of Angvard were positioned atop the iron gate, firing arrows and throwing spears down upon the rebel soldiers. Around 300 soldiers had died because of these gate gaurds.

_We need something to get rid of those guards, and quickly_, Solembum said as he saw an Urgal get shot straight through the head by an arrow, blood spurting out from the fatal wound like water from an overflowing tub.

"I believe I have a good idea", Angela rasped as she turned toward Orik.

"King Orik, I think I know how to take care of these gate soldiers efficiently. Tell your most accurate catapult-stationed dwarves to coat their boulders in napalm, and then launch the rocks", the herbalist gasped as the dwarven king nodded his head and called out to his troops.

_That is a good idea, for I love the smell of napalm in the morning_, Thorn giddily said as he roared to get the gate soldiers at least somewhat scared. It did not work.

_-POV change-_

"What is this place?", Eragon asked as he and Brom sat by themselves in the almost empty white room.

"It is the room of the gods, where all of the ruling gods of every sentient and intelligent race come to discuss important matters and use their limit-less powers to change events", Brom sighed as he look at the pristine, pale marble floor.

"The ruling gods of every race come here?", Eragon asked as Brom finally looked up.

"Well, not necessarily _every_ race. The Lethrblaka and Ra'zac are often counted together, so they only need one god for the two races, the spirits only worship the human death god, Angvard, the Nidhwal are together with the Fanghur as cousins of the dragons, and relatives don't need different gods, the Krhn-ylkhl are unnaturally bred by the Priests of Helgrind, so unnatural beings cannot have any gods, souls are only spiritual essences of one, and the Giants and Grey Folk are extinct, so their gods have died out with them."

"But father, what about the elves? They do not believe in gods at all, so how can a atheistic race have a ruling deity? And what in the world is a Nidhwal and Krhn-ylkhl ?", Eragon questioned as he heard what appeared to be footsteps outside the door-less and window-less room.

"Oh, the elves do have a ruling god, and his name is Fulnor, fairest of the gods. And as for the Nidhwal and Krhn-ylkhl, they are creatures I shall teach you of when we get back to the physical realm so you may help your friends at Feinster", Brom breathed as the footsteps got louder.

"Ah, and it appears the ruling gods are arriving. Act your best, Eragon, for the gods have been watching over you carefully, and they expect naught but the best of a Rider such as you", Brom said as the white walls of the room wavered.

_-POV change-_

"Fail me at Feinster, Grindooul, and I shall feed you to Saibor's Sundablaka at the port of Feinster, and should that happen, you may only pray for a quick death by eating. Is that understood? You are the general of my army, yet you failed me at the Beors, with 3,840 of my best soldiers smoldered by those living urine drinkers. I do not expect the same from you at Feinster", Angvard growled as the scaly, slime-ridden general stood quaking in fear, his torn flesh pale as he slowly nodded, his eyes bulging in terror.

"Good. Now, take around 200,000 soldiers with you back to Feinster, and bring Saibor, his Sundablaka, and Murtagh and Voriadd with you as well. Is that clear?", Angvard barked as General Grindooul nodded again, and he quickly scampered out of the throne room.

"This shall be a day of reckoning, and a day of triumph that will not go unrecorded by my bards", Angvard cackled as he unlocked a cell door.

"Perhaps The Prowler should join the battle as well. Odrin, come! You are needed!", Angvard hissed as he fully opened the cell door.

_**Yeah, it's relatively short, but it's here where the introductions to many new characters begins! Also, is the only one reviewing this sequel, so I'm somewhat losing faith in my readers! Also, if you want more information, check out the Extinct Allypedia Wiki! Here is the URL:**_

_**Www . Extinct allypedia . Wikia . Com**_

_**I had to space out the URL cause FanFiction does not allow URL to be shown on the site! Merry Christmas, and R&R!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Okay, Chapter 6! This one will have a major battle in the beginning and throughout, and if you think the Varden will always have it easy for them cause they have Saphira, Thorn, and Voriadd's Lethrblaka, you're dead wrong! Also, it will have one main character get "resurrected" like Thorn was! Read it and enjoy!**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 6

The dwarven catapults flung the napalm-covered boulders, and they crashed onto the top of the iron gates. Several of the guards atop them were simply crushed, while others were ignited by the napalm. But still, some were hit by the boulders and flung down into Feinster.

But the gates themselves could not be torn down. The elves, remnants of the Du Vrangr Gata, and the few Empire's former magicians could not detect any spells, but when they examined the iron, they found it was not just iron, but a combination of the metal and some sort of other element, the likes of which had not been seen in any previous times and was entirely indestructible.

"Whatever that thing is, I want you men to keep hitting the gates until they are completely torn down, and should you stop, you shall be lifted and thrown into the city to find out how many soldiers the enemy has for yourselves! That's an order, not a request!", the dwarf commander Raugnard roared as the men steering the battering ram pushed forward, the siege weapon not even making the most miniscule dent in the otherworldly gates.

_A battering ram alone cannot put those walls into submission. Even if the unknown element is nigh indestructible, we have to put a great deal of force upon the gates to obliterate them_, Thorn observed as the battering ram cracked from the impact upon the gates, yet the gates themselves did not even budge.

_Then tell me, Thorn, how much force do you exactly plan to apply to these gates?_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka scoffed as he heard the plan. _We have already applied as much force as is possible!_

Thorn thought. He knew the iron-unknown element combination was impervious to metals such as steel, which the battering ram was compromised of. Even his and Saphira's fiery breath combined did not even place the slightest scorch upon the gates. Then, he had an idea.

_-POV change-_

"Have you finally gone insane? Firing flaming arrows and javelins, napalm-covered boulders, and siege engine projectiles toward the gates, all while the battering ram bashes into the gates and you and Saphira breathe fire onto the gates? That could end up getting us killed!", Orik raged as he heard the full extent of Thorn's plan.

_It is perhaps the only way to bring down the gates and destroy the supposedly indestructible element within it, King Orik! Now, if you have any better ideas, I would be glad to open my ears to them and would instantly shoot down my own idea! Go on then, King Orik, say what you think is better!_, Thorn hissed as Orik stood dumbfounded.

"You listen to me, stupid lizard! I will not have you speak to me like that, do you hear me? I am a king, and you are but a mere fat reptile with wings and a big mouth! And your idea is crazy, and shall be the death of us all!", Orik growled as he intolerated Thorn's insults.

_Well, I never knew kings were such snobs! Only fitting, though, for a man who starves out his soldiers while watching a big object hit a gate for three days straight!_, Thorn snarled in response.

"Are you telling me I am unfit for being a leader?! Gah, you little brat! I shall have you stripped of your flesh and your eyes-", Orik was saying, but he did not get the chance to finish.

_Enough, both of you!_, Saphira screamed as she came forward and unleashed a roar of unsettling noise, leaving a dead silence in it's wake as all stopped to look.

"Saphira, leave now, as this is a conversation between us!", Orik boomed as he unsheathed Volund from it's leather holding in his belt.

_No, I shall not leave, as I am a dragon and you are but a three foot tall king, so I give the orders! And plus, someone needs to stop you two before you kill each other! Just agree with Thorn's plans, Orik, and we might get this moving forward!_, Saphira growled as Orik's face twisted into confusion as Saphira defied him.

"But Saphira, you cannot possibly agree with-but, but-ohh, FINE! Raugnard, get over here and tell the battering ram men to stop for a moment!", Orik sighed.

_-Later That Day-_

Saphira and Thorn combined their fiery breaths, making a purple flame of which engulfed the right side of the gates, and Raugnard yelled, "CHARGE!", and the battering ram slammed into the gates' center, careful to avoid the purple dragon fire, and they quickly pulled away as a flaming javelin hit the left side and exploded into flaming bits.

Saphira and Thorn stopped their fiery breaths and pulled away as the napalm-covered boulders hit the top of the gates and ignited it before crashing down, and several flaming arrows hit the center of the gates where the battering ram had collided. Several magicians yelled, "Brisingr!", and a ring of multicolored flames burst into existence at their words, and the arms of the flames stretched out and licked the iron and unknown element.

The siege towers shot several boulders from their bulky centers and the rocks went flying into the gates, their stone shells bursting into small, razor-sharp fragments that turned into missiles of which zipped through the camp and cut down several of the rebels' own soldiers.

The fire ceased, leaving only smoke as the gates were revealed to be scorched and had several nasty dents in them, yet the gates still stood firmly.

"CHARGE!", Raugnard yelled, and the battering ram sped forward and punched a hole in the gates, and, before Raugnard even said anything else, a loud _CRRRRRRRRREEEEEEAAAAAKK_ was heard, and the noise was so painful that many of the soldiers covered their ears. With that, the gates fell forward and crushed several of Angvard's soldiers, their bones breaking like a hollow chicken collar-bone as the gates lost their support.

"GO! March forward! Leave no soldier alive! Go, into the city!", Orik commanded as he swung Volund through the air, and with that, several hundred dwarves, led by Raugnard mostly, ran into the city and swung their axes.

The Surdans and remaining Varden soldiers stood still as they awaited Orrin's orders to go forward.

"Today, men, we shall mak-", Orrin was stating, but he was cut off as a arrow of the underworld flew into his head, and as he fell, he died before even hitting the ground.

An archer of Angvard's attempted to run as the the Surdans looked toward him, but several arrows flew through his back and sprouted from his stomach. Guided by their rage, they snarled like a bull as they sprinted forward and began to cut through the ranks of the beasts.

"This battle shall be the day we earn glory and honor for ourselves and our tribes, and the day our loved ones whom were killed on the Great Day shall smile at the avenging of their deaths!", Skgahgrezh bellowed as several thousand Urgal and Kull rams roared in rage at Angvard's army, their lust for their blood ready to be fulfilled as they walked toward the city, ready to kill.

Then, just as they entered, the rebels heard a noise, an alien noise. Of another world it most likely was, and it gave an ear-tearing screech that sent even the largest and most muscled Kull falling in a heap and forcing them to cover their ears and cry tears of dread.

The noise sounded peculiarly like this: _UUUUUUUUUAAAKKK-LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAA AAAAAA!_ It had no structure, the noise did not. It almost could not be described to sound like anything above the underworld, and the only knowable thing it sounded like was metal being torn as sparks set it alight.

As the noise dimmed, a great ball of _something_ materialized. It was made not of magic, light, fire, or even energy, but something entirely unknown. Then, as it expanded, the ball zoomed forward.

It hit the soldiers of the tightly packed army, and a massive explosion was heard as the very earth rocked, and scorched black bodies flew into the air as the heat from the explosion expanded and caught all those unlucky enough to be in it's path and evaporated their blood and boiled their organs and bones.

Twice more the noise was heard, and twice more, the balls of the unknown material hit the army and killed hundreds in each explosion and hundreds more in the blood-evaporating heat.

"Fall back, fall back! Back I say, back!", Orik shouted as the men scrambled, but the rest of his words were drowned out as a shrill shriek was heard, and the sky went black.

"What in the name of Gun-", Raugnard was saying, but he stopped as the beast of darkness suddenly landed.

It looked like a dragon, but that was the only normal thing about it. For one, this winged monstrosity was made of what looked like shadows and smoke, and it's head was the only material object of it's body, and it's eyes were not there. It's shadowy fangs crackled as the creature grinded them upon each other, and it's gender was non-existent.

"A beast not worthy of itself!", Raugnard spat as he swung his black axe to hit the abomination's face, but what looked like a hammer came out and deflected the axe, breaking it clean in two as the black arm raised itself and brought the hammer upon Raugnard's skull.

The dwarves moaned in horror and Orik's hammer, Volund, stopped short of hitting one of Angvard's soldiers in the knee. His eyes grew wide as Raugnard's body stumbled.

Raugnard stumbled back a few inches before he crumpled to the ground. The Shadow Wyrm opened it's maw and unleashed a torrent of what appeared to be smoke. The vapor rushed forward and swarmed over the elves and Surdans in front of it. The smoke vanished and what was left were several charred corpses, and the rebel army screamed as they ran away, in horror, from the bodies and the shadow creatures.

But the shadow person leaped off his Shadow Wyrm and swung his hammer, and it smote the face of a nearby elf. A priest of Helgrind wobbled, on one foot, in front of the creature to stop him, but he swished his hammer to the side and the priest was sent flying into a band of nearby former Varden soldiers. Quickly, the shadow man sprinted to the confused and disoriented band and slew them all in a matter of three seconds.

Several spear wielding former Imperial soldiers scattered to get away, but the shadow man crushed and broke their bones as if though they were as hollow as a baby sparrow's.

Then, with a voice that sounded like famine and plague, the shadow man addressed the rebels. What he spoke is this:

"_Material fools! You have every right to run from the city! Run! Run to the hills! For none shall dare to hinder Angvard, and yet you believe you may stop me? Cowards, the whole lot of you! Go, flee from me, as I am but a ghost of a shadow compared to Angvard, and you are weak enough to run in fear from my visage, as that is how weak you are! I have killed one of your greatest commanders of your army, and I have two of your former allies and "friends" with me now!_", the shadow man hissed, and at the sound of his voice, quite a great few soldiers laid their weapons and fell to their knees, their faces contorted with depression.

"But I have something to say to you, shadow beast! A bargain to make, perhaps!", Orik unexpectedly said and all turned to him, yet his voice sounded hollow and very queasy compared to the shadow man's.

The shadow man uttered a hideous noise that sounded like a laugh, yet came to the rebels as a death sentence.

"_What is it you must blurt, mountain rat? Come speak; should you have a good enough bargain, I will perhaps consider with Angvard. If not, then I will simply have you killed. Now, say what you must!_", the shadow man growled, obviously impatient, as he wished to simply keep killing, which was Angvard's one order to him.

"I have this bargain here:quit killing us and let us simply leave, and we shall leave you alone and your ruler, Angvard, shall receive a sacrifice from us every two years. Should you not accept, we shall be swift in crushing you and your army and Angvard, and taking this city", Orik barked. "Make your choice, shadow beast".

The demons in Angvard's Army appeared to stand firm and emotionless, not showing any possible reaction to the bargain.

"_You shall leave, and leave us alone, as long as we do the same for you? And you shall give Angvard a sacrifice, every two years? I say, you speak with a renewed vigor, mountain rat. One I have not seen in a material creature before. Yet you say that you shall be swift in crushing us all, should we not accept? You say that you shall take all of Angvard's cities, if we say no? That is the part where you fail, mountain rat, and the one I laugh at. And it is also the reason I turn down your offer, little mouse!_", the shadow man cackled as he pointed toward the rebels.

"_Go, you beasts! Go, march forward, and slice the rebels and eat their organs, and show absolutely no mercy!_", the shadow man yelled to the soldiers of Angvard's Army, and, breaking their stiffness, roared with brutality as they pointed forward their spiked maces and clubs and axes and then rushed to meet the rebels.

The rebels were unprepared. They attempted to lift their shields in front of them, but the soldiers of Angvard's Army swung their weapons too fast and ran with such stamina that at least four dozen rebel soldiers were cut down in the front and those behind them were given little respite and slew only six or seven of the charging abominations in front.

Then, the archers of Angvard's Army shot their arrows, and they flew over the walls and buildings and dived toward the rebels.

"Lift your shields! Protect yourselves!", Orik yelled, and the rebel soldiers did so. But the tips of the arrows of the underworld were made of granite and obsidian, and they were sharpened and covered in the boiling waters of the lake of the underworld.

The shields were absolutely useless against the arrows. The arrows did not just make a hole in the shields, they completely sliced through, making a foot wide dent in them and going through undamaged. A desperate scream here and there followed shortly after.

Then, as though the prayers of war were answered, Saphira and Thorn flew over, their red and blue fiery breaths setting the army ablaze and scorching the Shadow Wyrm, melting the ashes compromising it to reveal several burned bones of various races and mere smoke.

The Wyrm screeched in rage and defiance, and covered in purple fire from Saphira and Thorn's combined breaths, soared into the air, breathing it's smoke breath.

Saphira was fast enough to dodge the smoke and shadow, but Thorn got a portion of his wing burned, as he was too slow. He cannot be blamed, however, as he got the lower part of his right hind leg hewed by an axe.

_Monster of filth! You dare oppose us, and attempt to slay us? You shall pay with your life for that, vile animal!_, Saphira snarled. _Thorn, attempt to break it's mind to distract it!_

Thorn did so, but when he entered the Shadow Wyrm's "mind"-if it can even be called a mind at all-he was repulsed by what he saw, and drew out.

The attack on the Wyrm's "mind" left it angrier than ever, and it zipped toward Thorn, opening it's maw to sing it's fangs into his neck.

Thorn barrel-rolled to the side, barely dodging the Wyrm. The fire covering the Wyrm died out, leaving behind only smoke and shadow, as well as it's physical head, which had not been damaged.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Voriadd's Lethrblaka flew in by the side and shoved his beak into the Wyrm's head, puncturing it.

The Beast roared and howled as it turned to face the Lethrblaka. Before it could fight back, the Lethrblaka swung it's front left paw and the claws tore through the cheek of the Wyrm.

_-POV change-_

Orik swung Volund and knocked aside a soldier of Angvard's.

Suddenly, a screech was heard and Voriadd's Lethrblaka fell out of the sky, and he crashed through a building, and several archers were crushed as he slammed into the ground. His seven-foot beak skewered an axe-bearer.

"Healers! Take the Lethrblaka to the camp! He is laden with several arrows and a bad scorch on his right temple. Take him to the camp!", Orik roared as he scattered a troop of spear men.

The fight was not going very well for those going directly against the shadow man. Whenever they attempted to strike him, their weapons merely bounced off. He did not appear to be protected by any wards, yet he kept going, not taking notice of the weapons hitting him.

"_Little fools! Just give up, and allow yourselves to suffer at the hands of Angvard! You know you cannot win, so why defy your knowledge?_", the shadow man hissed and cackled as he slaughtered an entire group of Urgals with little more than two swings.

Queen Islandzadi had fallen during the fight, as she had been laden with many arrows of the underworld, known to kill in a near instant. Her body had been carried away by several elves, all mourning in a terrible way. All the while, the shadow man had been laughing.

Finally, the soldiers dropped their weapons and fled in terror. But Angvard's Army was not done.

"_MURTAGH! Come out, vermin!_", the shadow man roared with the voice of a beast. With that, a great gate within the city creaked open and several hundred soldiers of Angvard's Army poured out, and leading them all, was Murtagh.

_-POV change-_

Thorn dived through the air, avoiding the Wyrm's smoke breath and driving the creature closer outside the city. Suddenly, something entered his mind.

Thorn was in pain, and he attempted to put up a wall around his thoughts, but his defenses were collapsed. His mind throbbed in pain, and the Wyrm hissed as it flew toward Saphira.

A scream was heard below. Thorn looked, attempting to ignore the pain entering his mind, and he was dumbfounded to see Murtagh, his Rider, below, swinging his sword Za'roc, and cutting down many rebels.

The entity in his mind left, and Thorn suddenly heard a mental voice speak to him, and it was Orik.

_Thorn, you and Saphira must leave the Wyrm and come down! Your Rider and this shadow man are wreaking havoc among us, and we shall be slaughtered like hogs if you two do not help us! Fly down immediately!_, Orik screeched as he left, and Thorn had no choice but to fly down.

_Thorn, where are you going? We must kill this Wyrm!_, Saphira shouted as the Wyrm roared and slammed into her chest, nearly throwing her down.

_Orik and the others need us! Murtagh and the shadow man are killing us down there!_, Thorn replied as he set several soldiers of Angvard alight.

But as he spoke, a huge blue explosion came forth, incinerating several soldiers of Angvard nearby, and the very fabric of the world appeared to be briefly torn as the explosion subsided and the air electrified. A young man stood in the center of the scorched dent, holding a blue Riders sword, and a slightly transparent elderly man stood by him. Eragon and Brom had arrived at last.

_-POV change-_

"We have no choice but to retreat! Retreat-a despicable word that leaves a bad taste in my mouth, indeed!", Skgahgrezh sighed as the shadow man slayed a magician.

Suddenly, a huge blue explosion flew forth and revealed a burnt dent, with Eragon and an elderly transparent man next to him.

All stopped to stare at the new arrivals. Then, unexpectedly, the rebels cheered and yelled loudly, and several soldiers of Angvard rushed forward to stop the two, but Eragon yelled, "Brisingr!', and his sword burst into blue flames, and he decapitated the soldiers, while some who looked on fled.

"He is here! Eragon has arrived, and has not died!", Orik shouted as the sight of the Rider increased the morale of the rebels.

Suddenly, the rebels lifted their weapons and their surprised grins turned into snarls as they began to charge forth, the arrival of Eragon and Brom having instilled a violent ferocity within them. If before they were frightened field mice, they were now like rabid wolves, their spears and swords embedding into the soldiers of Angvard.

The soldiers of Angvard were unprepared for this ferocity boost. Their shields were like paper when the swords hit them, and the hammers and axes and clubs of the Urgals and dwarves scattered the soldiers and pierced their ranks like waves upon a sand beach. Most fled while others made a futile stand to fight, only to die.

The shadow man saw this, and he did not like it one bit. Most ignored his killings and focused on the army of Angvard, raging like a bull and bashing the soldiers of Angvard, and most rebels flew past him without a glance as they slayed the soldiers.

Finally, the shadow man had had enough, and so he decided to kill the one who had started this uprise of "hope":Eragon.

Quickly, he shoved aside the other rebels and made his way to the Rider.

First, the shadow man entered the Rider's mind, and imitated the one he loved most:Saphira.

_Little one, what are you here for?!_, the shadow man telepathically raged in Saphira's voice.

_Saphira, what are you talking about?_, Eragon asked, not knowing he was telepathically communicating with the shadow man and entering his disguised mind.

_Little one, stop killing all these soldiers of Angvard! You are being stupid and acting like a fake hero! Why did you even have to come, you little piece of vermin?!_, the disguised shadow man asked in Saphira's voice.

This time, Eragon became angry with Saphira. _Oh, shut up, you blue, obese reptile! You know nothing about being even a real hero, and I came so I could save your fat behind, you idiot!_, Eragon burst out, not knowing he was saying this to the real Saphira, and she heard this.

_What did you just say to me, and what are you talking about?!_, the real Saphira gasped as she turned to face her Rider.

_Oh, do not act like you do not know, you_-Eragon was saying, but a fist reached out to crush his face with full force.

Eragon's vision blurred, and he stumbled as he failed to notice what had just happened, only focusing on Saphira in front of him, as he toppled to the ground.

He dazed out a bit, and his eyes shut before re-opening a few seconds later to see a huge, pitch black man standing before him, a huge menacing hammer in hand, and smoke appearing to emit from his shoulders and back.

Eragon recognized the man all too well:it was Saibor, the non-human creature who had been his prison warden and the one who had brought him to Angvard, and the one who had beaten and physically abused him when he was still a prisoner. Eragon never thought he would meet his end at the hands of this monstrosity.

"_Little maggot! Did you honestly believe you could stop me and Angvard's Army, much less Angvard himself? You are a fool, and shall now not receive a warrior's death, but a scoundrel's execution, a rat's extermination!_", Saibor angrily hissed as he put his foot upon Eragon's chest as he realized the Rider was trying to get up.

But Murtagh looked on at this, and he hated what Saibor was doing. Not because he thought it was emotionally and spiritually wrong, but because he knew that if anyone was to kill Eragon, it would be him. This would be Murtagh's kill.

Using a non-verbal spell, Murtagh let Za'roc go up in wine red flames, and the sudden spell attracted Saibor's attention.

"_What do you want now, fool? Can you not see I am busy?_", Saibor spat, and as he spat those words, he literally spat into Murtagh's face, somewhat burning him in the process.

But Murtagh gave no care. In a single stroke, he stuck out his Rider sword and it crackled with flames as it slid into Saibor's heart, before it sprouted out from his back.

"_You, traitor_-", Saibor squealed, balling his hands into fists, but he never got a chance to use them, as Murtagh kicked Saibor off his sword and flying into the battle.

Thorn roared, and a pillar of ruby red flames gushed out and was ready to consume a platoon of soldiers of the underworld, but as the pillar came out, Saibor suddenly flew toward it. He raised his right arm and fist and lifted his right thumb and left all other fingers down, giving a thumbs-up just before he fell into the dragon flames.

A second passed before a loud, otherworldly screeching noise came from the flames, and almost all soldiers dropped as their ears ringed with pain from the noise.

A huge ball of black smoke and shadow slowly floated from the flames, and the Shadow Wyrm above the city was smote with the smoke-and-shadow ball as it exploded, the smoke and shadow compromising it spreading out quickly, incinerating the birds unlucky enough in it's path before it simply vanished.

Suddenly, the black scars and dents upon Murtagh's flesh vanished, and the white lights in his eyes vanished, revealing his normal brown eyes, before he closed them and collapsed.

Eragon saw this all as he got up off the ground, and he smiled before he fell down again and fell unconscious.

_-POV change-_

Eragon awoke in a bed in a small tent, with Murtagh next to him, his eyes shut. He grunted as he scratched his head, getting up out of bed and exiting the tent.

He heard several nearby soldiers cheerfully singing as they torn down the banners of Angvard and burned them, and saw some dwarves gathering near a large tomb, and several elves standing and mourning.

He sighed as he walked toward the gates of Feinster, and some soldiers saw him and cheered.

"The savior of men and bane of the demons! He is here!", the men cheered and they rushed to him, but a large, burly man strode forward and angrily told them to get back to work.

Eragon looked upon the roads, and he found Skgahgrezh, hauling the corpses of the creatures of Angvard and throwing them into burning bonfires.

"Skgahgrezh! How long I have not seen you or all the others. What have I missed as I have been gone?", Eragon asked.

"Aye, and it is good to see you again as well, Firesword. We had originally believed you to be dead, as you had not gone with Saphira and the dwarf and Lethrblaka. As for the battle, it was going terribly before you had arrived. It is good you came", the Urgal grunted as threw in a corpse.

"How many dead?", Eragon asked.

"Of the 30,218 soldiers, mostly increased by the arrival of the elf queen and her elves, only 12, 180 remain", Skgahgrezh sighed as he kicked a nearby corpse.

Eragon grimaced at the results. They had won, yes, but at such a horrible cost. It was not worth winning to give so many lives. And they now had so few numbers, it would be difficult to go on.

"Very well, then", Eragon sighed as walked on into the city to perhaps rebuild, or perhaps simply inspire the survivors.

**-VOLUME III-**

Angvard had had enough of this. No longer would he live with losing. Only one choice remained. He would use the device. He would lead the troops himself, albeit indirectly. He would show the rebels, and they would quake in fear.

They would.

_**So, sorry about the long wait, and if you want to know, I only had Orrin killed because he was being such a douchebag in Book 4. Also, did anyone get the Terminator 2 reference? And also, there are some Book 4 spoilers, so read at your own risk! R&R, please!**_


	7. Angvards Dark Plans

_**So, you thought the last chapter was long, and you couldn't handle it? Well then, you should probably stop reading this now. This will be one of the last chapters of CTE, and this shall be where Angvard's plan comes to life. Also, R.F is the only user currently reading and reviewing! How is it that this sequel has a smaller following than the first story, The Extinct Ally? Also, the Extinct Allypedia needs contributors! With that said, here is chap.7.**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 7

"General Grindooul. Please, take a seat", Angvard calmly murmured, yet his murmuring carried through the room like thunder.

Grindooul, a leader of Angvard's Army, uneasily glanced at the feasting table.

"Er, ser, where do I takke my seet?", the creature queasily asked in his perversion of the human language, his eyes switching from the table to Angvard to the only other person in the room, the undead Ra'zac, Voriadd.

"Oh, please general, please take a seat right across from me, at the host's seat. I would feel greatly honored if you did so", Angvard boomed, a certain glee in his formerly monotone voice. He tapped the bottom of his scythe upon the brimstone floor, and with that, a door opened and a chef came out, a roasted lamb in his arms and a casket of wine bundled within.

Grindooul was concerned. He had lost the Second Siege Of Feinster, and Angvard had promised death if that had happened. But now, he was being served lamb, his favorite meat, _and _wine? His brain was beginning to hurt.

"I know how much you just _love _lamb, especially roasted, and I understand how hard you and the soldiers under your command fought at Feinster. Were it not for that turd eating, urine drinking "_Rider_" and that elderly, mentally ill bum with a beard whom had came with him, I believe you and your forces would have kept the city for me", the fallen god calmly uttered as he motioned for Grindooul to take his seat.

Grindooul finally sat. Voriadd grabbed a knife and fork, sliced a good portion of the lamb meat off, and put it on a plate. He then grabbed a clear, plain goblet and poured the wine in. He moved toward Grindooul and lay the food and drink, as well as the utensils, in front of the general.

"Er, ser, aren't you goeng to eet?", Grindooul asked as the death god simply sat at the end of the table, watching, his hidden eyes intent upon the failed general.

"Oh, no, my dear General Grindooul. You have showed your prowess in battle, and you _only_, which is why neither I nor any of the other soldiers are coming to this dinner. I have only one word of advice, though:don't choke". Angvard said the last sentence with what appeared to be a chuckle.

"Now, I am done talking. Please, General:begin your hard-earned feast", Angvard bellowed.

Grindooul looked down at the food. It looked normal and healthy, along with the wine. Besides, what could possibly go wrong? He was just going to eat a meal, it was not like there was an explosive inside the lamb. Besides, choking was the least of the General's worries.

He sliced a portion of the roasted meat off, not bothering to take the skin off first, and put it in his mouth. It was delicious:the meat was roasted to the perfect degree, it was not too tender or too soft, and it carried some sort of exotic spice in it. He could practically smell the goodness of the lamb meat in his mouth.

He picked up the goblet, and he chugged down the purple liquid, allowing a good deal of it to run down his chin and throat, the grape taste seducing his dry throat.

He cut off another part of the meat, and he shoved it in, his taste buds sprinting and leaping with excitement.

Grindooul coughed.

He shook it off, and went back to his gluttony. He let the wine hit the meat, and his senses exploded everywhere, his bodily functions suddenly being simulated beyond the normal capacity.

Grindooul coughed twice more.

He prepared to gulp down the wine again, but he coughed several times more.

He took no notice, only for him to cough out blood into the wine.

He sat bewildered, before he suddenly grabbed his throat. He was choking.

He leaped out of his chair, and he grabbed a napkin and coughed more blood, and then he realized.

The food and drink were poisoned.

He began rolling on the floor, clutching his throat as his vision blurred. He attempted to call for help, yet his voice just came out as a dry stutter and a scratchy cough.

"It is sad that you could not keep Feinster for me. You were as big a disappointment to my kingdom and I as I thought", Angvard said in a calm monotone.

"No! Please, save-", Grindooul choked out, but his brain and lungs suddenly lost the air in them, and his heart felt the blood going out of it.

"Goodbye, Grindooul. Your soul shall rest in pieces, just like your corpse shall", Angvard said in the same monotone, calm and cool.

Grindooul clutched his throat. His eyes then shut, and he left the physical realm.

_-POV change-_

The rebel spies hid behind the bushes, their eyes intent upon the soldiers of Angvard's Army standing in front of them. There were 24 total, and they appeared to be in two groups of twelve. And they were arguing.

"_We_ are incompetent? Bah, this is coming from the traitors led by a physical human being. You would say blasphemous filth like that, worthless scum", one of the creatures hissed as he spat into the face of one of the other creatures.

"So? At least _our _leader is a physical being who can think and reason, not some undead, glowy-eyed beaked turd! You have no reason to be talking, you piece of low-class crap!", the other soldier yelled, and he picked up a patch of dirt and threw it into the other soldiers eyes.

The spies looked closer. They could see one side was wearing brown, with a dead bird on their shields and leather breastplates. The other wore black and had a white scorpion painted upon their shields and leather. The black-wearing soldiers were also larger, and had axes rather than the maces of the brown soldiers.

Once the dirt was in his eyes, the leader of the black-wearers decapitated the leader of the brown-wearers. He then leaped high before landing upon another brown-wearer, the impact alone killing him, his skull crushed. He then shoved his shield into another brown-wearer's throat, knocking the air out of him and allowing the leader of the black-wearers to grind his axe through his stomach, letting the brown-wearer's entrails to spill out and his body to fall face-first into it.

The rest of the brown-wearers ran off, but not before several were captured by some lower rank black-wearers.

"Execute them", the leader of the black-wearers grunted. "Take your axes and make sure you can reach the area between the head and neck."

The lower black-wearers did not hesitate to follow those orders, as they grabbed the prisoners, lifted the axes, and the screams were sounded as blood sprayed and heads rolled into the rushing river below. The rebel spies looked on in sickness, their blood frozen by the unearthly screams and shrieks of the beheaded brown-wearers, and their ragged uniforms and skin were soaked in bright, red and glowing blood.

"Now, we move forward, and whatever we see, unless it is of our own kind (he was referring to the black-wearers) you grab and you kill. You leave nearly _nothing _alive", the leader roared, and without another word, the group marched forward.

The last soldier of the group was also the slowest, and as he walked by the bush, one of the spies lashed out and slit his throat, and his blood burst out, hitting the second-to-last of the leaving black-wearers.

He spun around, only to find a sword stuck in his stomach and sticking out of his back. He slowly slumped off the blade, and he fell onto the ground, before his body rolled off into the river with a great splash of water.

The leader of the black-wearers heard and he and his regiment turned around, but saw nothing but the bodies of the other fallen soldiers.

"Hmph. Moving on, then, men."

_-POV change-_

The rebel spies sprinted away, realizing their cover had been ruined when the body rolled into the river. They hurried along, dragging the corpse of the black-wearer whose throat they had slit.

Finally, they stopped at a nearby canyon, where they finally stopped to catch their breaths, and, at last, got the chance to do what they had been sent for: search for any possible information regarding Angvard's Army.

They took the body and, as disgusting as the task was, stripped the clothing off the creature. Nothing came out, though, and show they plunged a knife into the creature's stomach and slit it open, before reaching their hands within.

Their hands were coated in some sort of black pus and yellow excrement, and so they gave up the search within the body.

"Check his clothes", one of them whispered, silently speaking so as to not alert any possible spies or soldiers of Angvard, as they still had not cleared out all of his forces.

They reached within his boots, his shirt pocket, his sleeves, and his belt, yet nothing turned up. He had no pockets on him.

Disappointed, the rebel spies turned and decided to run back to their base, with no idea as to what the enemy was planning next.

_-POV change-_

"And so, you and your men fail again, Elriockh. Disappointing. Simply that. Not only were your troops arguing with General Lyhnan's men, you ran like cowards. I expected you to fight like men, and at least die fighting for my cause, yet you did not. You ran like a coward, and you could only watch at first as your men were slaughtered like hogs. _Disappointing_", Angvard sighed. The man he was addressing, the beast named Elriockh, had his head down. His expression was invisible.

"Tell me, Elriockh-why don't you look up at me? Is it because you know how great of a failure you are, or is it because you have immense fear of what is below my crown, underneath my hood?" This caught Elriockh's attention and made him look up at Angvard. The crown atop his head was missing, and Elriockh could not pull his head down now as Angvard lifted his hood.

What was underneath that hood cannot be described, as it would most likely make one go insane. The descriptions are not for man's ears, and for that, what was under Angvard's hood shall not be told.

Elriockh could only stand and stare as he was locked in place by the thing under Angvard's hood, and he went mad. He tried to raise his arms and shield his eyes, but he found himself paralyzed by the thing under the hood. He went cold, and his eyes began to shrivel. His skin literally began to crawl, and his muscles slumped into one mass.

His mouth was locked closed as his ears began to bleed. Elriockh's nostrils pressed in and closed as his bones began to shift, changing his composure and appearance.

And then he fell dead. Simply...dead. With that, Angvard pulled his hood back on and placed the crown back atop his head. He then tapped the hilt of his scythe upon the floor, and with that, Lyhnan turned around.

"Ah, good. There was a reason I had asked you to not look in advance, General", Angvard said to him, and he pointed to the stone floor. However, Elriockh's body had now dissolved into a mere puddle of sticky greenish-white ichor. Nothing remained of him, erasing near all existence of him.

"I see, Lord. Now, shall we discuss this plan of yours?", Lyhnan groaned.

"I see you are a man who likes the climax the most, isn't that so, General? Now, to the plan-you know you and your squadron of the White Scorpion are the only of your kind I trust in battle and your loyalty towards myself are absolute, with no questions asked. And so, that is the beginning of the plan."

"What do you mean, Lord?"

"At Lithrin Swamp. The weak troops that are not of yours are stationed there, but the swamp has a history of being poisoned and carrying an unholy stench that kills. And so comes the plan-once those petty rebels discover of it, they will charge there simply out of spite to "avenge" their kind. And so come the results-either my troops shall win and defeat those maggots but be so weakened they will be helpless as I slay them and leave only your powerful warriors, or the rebels shall win and therefore do one of my jobs for me but be poisoned by the swamp."

The room lay in silence a while after that speech. The air seemed still, and the silence was unnerving. Finally, it was broken once Lyhnan asked something.

"But, my Lord, how shall the rebels learn of the weak ones at Lithrin? Surely, we shall not just go out and tell them?"

"Well, the rebels wish to avenge those that have fallen against us? Well, if they want vengeance, then they shall come and get it!"

_-POV change-_

"And that is the plan, Odrin. You have heard it. And I know you are not fond of your troops, so I suppose you shall not object to your troops being slain", Angvard said as the man stood before him.

Odrin was once a man of prominence in the city of Teirm. He was had more than 300 Crown's in his earnings, yet he had no time for work. He was, in the finest sense, a playboy. He was too busy drinking and gambling with his friends, getting married to the three richest women in Teirm, getting into reserved venues for free, and riding in his carriage from party to party.

Yet, he dabbled in the illegal drug trade. He evaded arrest by the Empire by bribing the arriving officers, and he stole weapons and claimed his business had forged them.

And that was his downfall. The vigilante Ra'zac named Voriadd had slain his men for their crimes, before he came upon the vile playboy. Though Odrin survived, Voriadd had fired a flame-tipped arrow at a barrel of pitch and tar, which had exploded and sent the left half of Odrin up in flames. Only by jumping over the railway and falling into his private pool did he stop the fire from spreading and put it out.

But that was a good while ago, and he knew he must get his revenge later. Now, he had to answer.

"Why yes, Lord Angvard! They are so pathetic, they must be put out of their mercy! Let your plan go on!", Odrin laughed as Angvard dismissed him.

He did not care if Angvard's goals were accomplished or not, in reality. He had sworn loyalty to the human god of death simply because the mad god had promised him he would heal him of his burns and return his riches should he win. However, Odrin had planned that should Angvard lose, he would strip the god of everything he had and become the true ruler of the land. It would, after all, be even better than his original power.

Odrin had as well come to enjoy the nickname he had been given-The Prowler. He was Angvard's preferred assassin, and he felt good killing people he had never even known, simply because he felt it was his payback to a world that refused to accept him any longer. And before long, that idiot god would have no idea what hit him.

_-POV change-_

Eragon walked among the ruins of Feinster. Most of the buildings had been torn down and set ablaze, and the gates protecting the city were brushed aside like leaves in the autumn wind. The huge castle and manor that used to magnificently stand out in the city and hold the royal family here had been mutated to a living watch tower sprawling with gray tendrils, and it's screeches still echoed as it erupted into flames, dying and destroying the whole thing.

And that was not even near the worst part-nearly their whole army had been slaughtered, and even Eragon's timely arrival had not stopped the massacre, the soldiers being butchered in droves, like cattle.

He shuddered. It was not even very cold, and yet, there was still something-well, _unnerving _about the whole area. Even if Angvard's presence and influence here had been destroyed, Eragon still felt as if one of those horrible creatures, those twisted soldiers, were lurking here in the ruins-watching, waiting, preparing to leap out and rip him limb from limb.

Murtagh was still unconscious in his tent, and he showed no signs of waking from his stasis. _We cannot possibly continue fighting with how low our numbers are, and we only won this battle through sheer luck and force_, Eragon thought to himself.

Voriadd's Lethrblaka was still recovering after the horrible burns he had received from that large shadowy..._thing _during the battle, and he had received his share of broken bones from when he had crashed.

Brom had vanished after the battle had finally ended, and the last thing he told Eragon was that he now had to end this himself. No help at all.

_**WELL HOW CAN I DO THAT?**_, Eragon raged, and even though he was not projecting his thoughts to anyone really, it woke Saphira and Thorn, and they spread their wings as they went to search for Eragon.

The young Rider was not thinking straight obviously, and he raged to himself as he ran through the city, not knowing the two dragons were coming for him, destroying everything in sight. Being blinded by rage, however, was never a good thing, as Eragon learned once he hit a gaping hole and slid down before it evolved into a full-on fall.

He hit his head on a wood brick, and his head instantly ached. Groaning, he grabbed his scalp as he pulled himself off the stone tiles, and looked around.

The place was old, indeed, and he looked at the granite wall to his right and saw figures carved into it. Among them were humans, shopping through a town, and elves, using magic to grow certain trees. There were Urgals, smashing through a village and slaughtering it's inhabitants, and dwarves, crafting shields and mining ores and minerals.

There were werecats, eating birds and other small game, and Ra'zac and Lethrblaka, ripping humans apart and feasting on the marrow from the broken bones.

Finally, there were two more races:a dragon, breathing fire on an army, and the spirits, floating through a meadow and-setting humans on fire?

That last carving was the most disturbing, and Eragon wondered who had built the wall, and what this area was used for, when he was suddenly knocked to the floor and several claws dug into his side.

He spun around to see his attacker, and was disgusted at what he saw. It was a greenish-yellow beast, with a hard carpace surrounding it's upper torso. It's face looked like a cross between a bat and a scorpion, and it had several squirming tentacles, each having jagged claws protruding from the center, sucker mouths surrounding them.

Eragon punched the creature, yet he screamed as he felt his hand go numb, the carpace feeling as if though it was of steel, and the creature was unfazed by the attack. It suddenly slashed Eragon's torso, and he bit back a yell as the claws tore through his ribs. He grabbed it's face and threw it off him and into the pile of fallen wood bricks that used to make up the left wall, and the creature screeched as its head crashed into a brick.

Eragon unsheathed Brisingr, but he was still too slow as the creature leaped out of the mess and whipped him in the face with a tentacle. He fell over as it sank its fangs into his ankle.

Howling in pain, he lifted his leg and sent the creature flying upward. Eragon instantly rolled to the side and heard it fall onto the tiled floor, it's spine shattering.

Eragon walked to the groaning creature, and he prepared to separate its head from its body with Brisingr, when it suddenly began speaking in a demonic, deep voice, deeper than that of an Urgals.

"Go, kill me", it growled. "My death will not matter. Try much as you will, my lord will bring you all to your knees, and you will be shrieking for mercy."

"Who is your lord?", Eragon scathingly asked, keeping his sword on the left of the creature's neck.

"Are you so stupid as to not know already, maggot-spawn? ANGVARD! He is our lord, he is the ruler of all that dies and lives, and you think he cares for your petty squabbles? Nay, he laughs, as he prepares for you all to perish at Lithrin Swamp -"

Eragon had had enough and swung Brisingr, and the creature's ugly head was sent flying off it's body, a trail of blood following before it disappeared into the dark hallway.

However, he had learned something crucial that moment:Angvard's Army was waiting for them at Lithrin Swamp. It was more than enough to let Eragon feel good he had not slaughtered the creature instantly.

_-Later On-_

"So you tell me this-er, thing, mauled you in some hidden lair, and it told you this person called Angvard was waiting at Lithrin Swamp?", Orik asked as Eragon sat healing himself.

"Precisely", Eragon calmly replied.

"Well then blast it, Eragon, what are we supposed to do? Sure, we can spread the word, but there is no way we can attack!", Orik roared.

"And why not? They will surely not stand a chance, after our defeat of them here at Feinster-", Eragon was saying, his voice raising to show his frustration, yet Orik interrupted.

"No, Eragon, _we _will not stand a chance! Do you know how many soldiers we lost here? Should we go, we will merely be cutting ourselves down further, and even if we should win, there will most likely be only several hundred of us left afterward! It is naught but twisted suicide, I tell you!", Orik raged, hias face growing red and his fists tenser by the moment.

"So, you're just going to let us cower back here? Angvard and his vast minions will not simply shrug and leave, you know! They are most likely more powerful than several hundred Riders combined, and-"

"I am not suggesting we cower! I am not stupid, and I know this Angvard and his empire are more powerful than ninety Shades! But we must stay, and take some time to deal with the effects of this Second Siege of Feinster! You are my half brother, Eragon, and the only remaining Rider. I do not doubt your insight and your advice, but what I _do _doubt is us going back to battle so early. We must take time to cope, to build our strength and not be so careless again", Orik stated as his look softened.

Eragon sighed. "Prepare your soldiers, Orik, for we must tear down Angvard as soon as possible. Your tactics are wise, I must say, but sadly, time is not our friend here. It is now or never, and we either prevail or perish", Eragon said as he walked out of the tent, leaving Orik alone with his thoughts.

_-POV change-_

"Now-what of the assassin?", Angvard coolly asked as the Klirth'haw came back to his palace.

The Klirth'haw chattered and buzzed, similar to an insect, in it's own language(though Angvard understood it perfectly) before it presented the severed head of the assassin-the same creature that had attacked and nearly killed Eragon in the ancient lair at Feinster.

Angvard scowled, though it was not seen due to his hood, and he told the Klirth'haw to give him the head before he bade it to leave.

Angvard pushed open a little door in the wall before he came out a moment later, the assassin's head gone.

Having probed the mind of the assassin to see it's final thoughts, Angvard was not pleased at all to see it had told that filthy little Rider, who had learned of the plan at Lithrin Swamp. That was supposed to get out to them later.

"Stupid little buggers", Lyhnan spat, referring to the Klirth'haw. "You send 'em on a mission, good chance they're gonna fail and spill everything out. They can't even speak the language of our enemy! The lower soldiers are uneducated swine, yet they are not stupid enough to talk like wasps, little bulls-"

"Calm, calm Lyhnan. It is not the Klirth'haw's fault, but the stupidity of the assassin. Truly, even I make mistakes, such as not having sent an assassin who could not talk. Yet for you to judge one simply on their race, that is merely-oh, what is that word the pests use-ah, yes, _**discrimination**_", Angvard said, the last word being spoken with a rough, deep edge. "I would advise you not be so narrow-minded the next time we meet", Angvard hissed, his calm and cool demeanor now crumbling away as he grew increasingly frustrated.

He walked out of his throne room, and closed the door and locked it tight as he shut himself into his study. He slumped into his chair in front of his desk, and he tried to stay calm, hiding it with a motionless and calm man. However, his temper had reached it's boiling point, and Angvard's temper was a violent and blood-splattering one if provoked.

That was the thing about Angvard:he was always so enraged, and his subjects never understood why. And nobody knew just _what _made him tick and blast into a violent rage. Some said it was the failure of his servants, but even when speaking to someone during dinner in a calm monotone, it was just a mask that could barely hide his sniveling anger, and that mask was quick to slip. Some said everything enraged him because he was a naturally-born god who dislike his position and showed resentment for everything else because of how he thought he had gotten such a raw deal. Nobody knew and nobody asked, because they were all smart to fear for their safety.

He walked out of his chair and moved to the human skeleton. He drew his scythe out and placed his left hand upon the skeleton, and changed it to the human savior his soldiers had told him had come at the last second, the one they described as coming from a blue flash with a flaming sword.

He only looked at his features to know what the little Rider looked like when he came to be killed. He did not bother to marvel at them. To feed his rage, he lifted his scythe and brought it down, and the human was slashed in half, the blood flowing vigorously, as his skin flapped at the sudden hit, before the blood vanished and the model of the savior turned to dust.

But it was enough to satisfy Angvard, who sat back in his chair and gave a wide, ear-to-ear grin.

Never was it a good thing when the god of death smiled.

_-POV change-_

_Are you sure of this, Eragon? You know perfectly well how small our forces have come to after Feinster_, Saphira asked Eragon as the resistance trudged through the dirty wetlands, spending now almost a whole day making their forces mobile to get to Lithrin Swamp, and yet still, Voriadd's Lethrblaka was still not healed and Murtagh was still in a coma.

"I am sure, Saphira. We might have a small number of troops, yet our sheer brutality in battle will make up for-"

_You know perfectly well, Eragon, that Voriadd's Lethrblaka is still badly wounded, and Murtagh has still not awaken. How can we fight like that, and how can we protect them? What if brutality can not now defeat large numbers, suggesting the creatures here come in gigantic packs? What then?_, Saphira irritatingly asked, berating Eragon's thoughts that force was the only option for winning this next battle.

"I know not the answer to that, Saphira. Nobody has the answers to every problem, even if they have preparations first and foremost in mind", Eragon sighed as he called for the resistance to halt and make their camp here.

_-POV change-_

"Are you prepared to lead the weak and stupid soldiers of mine of whom I despise out to their deaths?", Angvard asked, scowling at the mention of the soldiers not under the leadership of General Lyhnan. The question was directed toward "The Prowler" Odrin, Angvard's go-to assassin.

"You know I am, Lord Angvard! You know not how much seeing someone die fulfills me to the point of mirth!", Odrin cackled as he smiled, wanting to watch death and bloodshed so badly.

"I know you can hardly wait, Odrin. I knew you would not decline a chance to slay, and so that is why you shall go forth now", Angvard rasped as Odrin bowed, said his thanks, and left with an unsettling smile.

Not that Angvard cared. He just wanted the job done.

_-POV change-_

It was a tension-filled night as the resistance set up camp and decided to take rest for the time being. Most had not objected, as the trip from Feinster to Lithrin Swamp took at least three days by foot, and that was what they were going with, and the few naysayers yelled that they might get attacked while they slept, and they had been silenced when Eragon and the other magicians cast wards around the camp and everyone within it.

As Thorn slept, he could do nothing but feel much concern for Murtagh, his Rider, who was now in a coma after being freed from Angvard and brought back to life. What if he died while he was in this state? What if he simply never woke up? What if he did come back, yet he lost all memory of everything that had come to be in his life?

These questions lingered in Thorn's head, and he could not sleep, and yet he did not bother to share his problematic thoughts, for fear someone would just tell him everything would be okay and he had nothing to worry about.

Nothing was okay, and he had just about everything to worry about. In two days time, once the battle began, he would be sure to rip those little maggots of Angvard apart extra violently.

_-Later On-_

The subsequent next day, night, and the third days morning were quite boring and uneventful.

They finally came to Lithrin Swamp, and the place was empty and silent. Only plants and muddy water was to be seen.

The emptiness was too crowding. The silence was too loud. There was just something very unearthly here, and even the vegetation looked malevolent and unholy.

"Well, where are they? Are they coming or not, because I know we all did not come here just to take a good vacation!", Orik growled as several of the other soldiers began murmuring and agreeing with him.

"I know that creature said-", Eragon was uneasily saying before Thorn burst in.

_Perhaps the little swine are too cowardly and finally realized how stupid it would be to attack _us _again_

_and ran back to their pathetic god of stupidity_, Thorn snarled, his contempt for the Army not being masked at all. _Shame-I truly wished to set them alight and rip their spines in half._

_Well, perhaps they are coming right now, and we simply cannot see it until it is too late_, Saphira theorized.

Saphira quickly realized just how prophetic her thinking was when they looked forward and suddenly saw Angvard's Army marching forward, their bloodshot eyes and contorted faces looking straight at them, never turning away.

They seemed relentless, and did not stop. Eragon knew what would happen now-neither of their armies would stop to try to negotiate, or speak for their commanders. It was way too late to even think of something like negotiations. Everyone was just focusing on staying alive and butchering the enemy.

At their front was what looked like a human male, with his right side perfectly normal, yet his left portion burnt pitch black, scorched flesh barely hanging on.

Suddenly, Saphira and Thorn shot straight into the air and landed with an astounding crash in front of the army, knocking both the resistance and Angvard's Soldiers to the ground. The two dragons opened their jaws and bright red and blue flames streaked out, and combined with the flammable water, the front of Angvard's Army went up in flames, and the shrieks and howls that sounded out were horrifying. Miraculously, though, the half-burnt man back-flipped into the air and right out of the way of the fire.

The fire seemed to die out near instantly though, and the middle of the oncoming troops charged forward. Most were torn to shreds by the claws and fangs of Thorn and Saphira, yet some ran up to the vegetation-filled surface and ran by, and they came forward. However, they were all cut down by fired arrows, some regular, some flaming, and the rest poisoned.

Saphira and Thorn stood guard in front, and the rebels rushed up to the lush surface, where they then ran back down to the swampy area in front of the dragons and met the Army head-on.

The rebels were surprisingly slaughtering the beasts with quick ease, and the efforts of the magicians, elves, and Urgals especially helped, their combination of magic and brutality bring whole groups of a dozen soldiers down.

However, the half-burnt man suddenly rushed in, and hope seemed to die down as he slashed with a supernatural quickness and efficiency, and by the end of his first minute of killing, around twenty rebels already lay dead on the ground.

Eragon decided he had had enough, and as the man was going to cut down another rebel, Eragon slammed Brisingr into the tip of his blade with enough force to shatter even armor covered with wards.

Yet the man's sword did not break at all-it did not seem to even scratch. The man gave a disturbing wide grin as he look at Eragon.

"I have heard much about you, sweetheart Rider", he mockingly hissed. "The name is Odrin-tellin' you that 'cause its gonna be the last name you'll ever hear!", he said before he cackled and swung his sword at Eragon.

His wards blocked the worst of the attack, yet the blade slightly cut Eragons stomach. Cursing, he struck at the mans chest, yet he moved his sword up and deflected it. Eragon gritted his teeth as he decided to use his speed this time, and moved Brisingr down and cut his burnt left knee.

The man did not seem to care for the injury, and both armies stopped to watch as The Rider and The Prowler were locked in mortal combat. Odrin cut Eragon on his elbow, and Eragon returned the favor with a deep stab into Odrins gut, and several of his ribs were torn in half.

Odrin spun and hoped to capture Eragon in his brief tornado and decapitate him, yet Eragon ducked and slashed both of the mans achilles tendons. Knocked off balance by the blow to his feet, Odrin stumbled before he began to fall into the swamp water.

As he was falling, Orik heaved before he swung Volund upward. It took much of his strength, but he did it, and the blow from the ancient hammer ripped Odrins left arm from his socket, and the blood gushed from the open stump.

Falling into the swamp, Eragon then kicked him with so much strength that Odrin flew into the air and spun twice before he landed on a sharp low-hanging tree branch, and the sound was sickening as he slid back and was impaled on the branch. He gulped once before he bowed his head.

The battle resumed after Odrin died, and within less than five minutes, all of the troops of Angvard's Army there at the battle were slain, and all who tried to escape were cut apart. Somehow, the battle was extremely easy, and over in less than thirty minutes.

"We...we won. We won! We killed them all in less than hour! We actually won with only a few casualties!", Orik shouted as everyone else joined and cheered with him.

Eragon was actually smiling for once, but it faded as he look to where Odrin had been impaled and saw that he was gone, leaving only his left arm and the bloody branch.

_-POV change-_

Angvard gave an especially huge grin as he heard the reports from Odrin, who he noted was missing his left arm-perhaps fitting, as his whole left portion was scorched. And for once, his rage was not there, and his happiness was not a mask.

"What did I tell you, Odrin? There is no way you can stop step one!", Angvard chuckled as Odrin gleamed with joy as well.

"Pulling the strings from behind the scenes like a puppet master-I like the way you do your thing, Angvard", Odrin said before he laughed evilly with the dark god.

"Now, bring me that pouch over there", Angvard barked as he motioned toward the pouch that Eragon had carried and held the green dragon egg, which had been taken when he and his group had been captured by Daghelef and several other spirits.

Odrin nodded and brought over the pouch, and Angvard slipped out the green egg-the last known surviving dragon egg in Alagaesia. He smiled again as he put his hand over the oval thing.

"Step two-prepare to commence", Angvard hissed as Odrin, Nar Garzhvog, Voriadd, Shruikan, Arya, General Lyhnan, Galbatorix, and the spirit of Glaeder all came to stand behind him-the darkest force that could be reckoned with. To call them the Second Forsworn was fitting enough.

**_So_ _it might end on something of a dreary note, that is how this is going to play out for the next two chapters of CTE. And to celebrate the 1st_ _Anniversary of The Extinct Ally(TEA), my first ever fanfic story, I'm gonna post this on the anniversary date, but believe me, I put a huge amount of time into this chapter, so it's not rushed. I think this is(in my opinion) the best chapter of CTE and is truly the longest in the series so far, so make sure you can handle long fics. And don't worry Murtagh fans, the Red Rider will come back real soon. As for Voriadd's Lethrblaka and his fans...I won't spoil too much! So, with all that said, please R&R(and not just Freedom!)!_**


	8. Plans of the Rebellion

_**Yes, CTE has not been updated for a good while, but I have an excuse! I have had complications with my health(not gonna disclose what problems) and I have been busy getting ideas for the fourth chapter of The Burning Of The Prowler, another of my stories. But don't worry, Murtagh will come back in this chapter for all you Murtagh fans, and it won't be as long as the last chapter(oh God, the length of the last chapter...). So, saved from the depths of Development Hell, here is chap.8 of Countdown To Extinction!**_

Murtagh hugged the left length of the corridor wall, and he shot his head around the corner before pulling back. Guards were blocking the door he needed to get through. Not that they would be much trouble, though.

Leaping out, he landed on his back, curling into a ball, and rolled a short while until he quickly got back up and decapitated the two guards with Za'roc. Their heads were rolling before they could even react to seeing Murtagh. And now came the hard part.

Using his skills in magic and the Ancient Language, he had managed to see through the door, and saw a spirit inside.

Murtagh's hopes sank, as judging from what Eragon and everyone else had told him after he had awoken from his coma, spirits had, apparently, unlimited raw energy and access to wild magic. And there was no definite way to kill them.

He whispered "ma'mor", and he heard a slight click before the door unlocked itself. The spirit did not seem to notice, however, and so Murtagh was capable of entering the room as he saw the spirit move out.

Quietly shutting the door behind himself, Murtagh found the body of Nasuada upon the examination table. Though the corpse had not yet decayed at all, it was still a disturbing sight, and it still reeked of death.

The corpse of Nasuada was not the only thing Murtagh had come to get. There was also the one thing that could, perhaps, turn the tide of the war-the green dragon egg, sitting smoothly, it's own purity and beauty untouched by the decay and evil of this palace, despite Angvard's attempts to birth the dragon unnaturally, though no one of the rebellion knew this.

Bringing out his large satchel, Murtagh shoved both the body and the egg into the carrier. However, it felt wrong for him, to dump another persons body this forcefully into a bag. It did not feel the least bit respectful, or humane. But there was no faster way, and Eragon had asked him to come back as quick as possible, as well as alive.

Eragon. Murtagh hated how he acted all high and mighty, the leader of the forces of good, just because he had become a Rider before Murtagh. But Murtagh wondered how everyone saw him as the savior of the land, when in reality, he acted many times like a sociopath.

First, there was his undying hatred of the Ra'zac, simply because a few of them had killed his uncle and destroyed his farm. Even after Voriadd and his Lethrblaka had came in peace and fought alongside them, Eragon was still being a bitter racist, and he obviously did not regret his beliefs.

And then there was the time, that Arya had told him of, when a young Imperial soldier had begged for Eragon to spare his life, and that his parents worried for him to come home, and the soldier had been no more than seventeen and weaponless. And yet, Eragon had still strangled the soldier to death. It was not even a quick death, but drawn out and lasting for at least a full minute.

Suddenly, Murtagh felt something grab his shoulder, and spun him around to meet face-to-face.

The man had a big grin on his(or at least, what remained of his face), and it was not a grin with joy, but a grin of pure sadism. At least half of the mans face, or perhaps even half his body, appeared burnt and mutilated, and his left eye bulged, almost hanging out of the socket. His left arm was missing, and there was a fresh, gory hole in his stomach and back.

"This is my room. You know that, don't you, sweetheart?", the man asked with a hint of fake cheer, his grin never-ending as he tightened his hold upon Murtagh.

"I don't like it when people come into my room, and my most favorite of all rooms in the palace, but they don't ask me first. And I don't like it when people try to steal stuff from my room, especially when it belongs to Angvard", the man chuckled, his grip still getting stronger, and Murtagh failing to free himself.

"Angvard needs that stuff, so if you can just give it back, I can kill you instead. When Angvard kills someone, it's very messy, and not very painless", the man kept saying, before finally giving all of his strength in his grip, and shattering Murtagh's shoulder.

Murtagh could not scream, because what happened next was too fast. He saw Voriadd grab the man and turned him around to face him, and he stood there for a second, glaring with his large, white and shining eyes into the mans face, before throwing him into the fire place in the corner of the room.

The man screamed and thrashed as he tried to get out, the flames quickly engulfing his body, but as he tried to escape, Voriadd took the red hot fire poker out of the fireplace and plunged it into the right half of the mans face, the unburnt half.

It was obvious Voriadd had offed the man so he could get Murtagh himself, and it brought back chilling memories of when Murtagh had killed the monstrous wraith named Saibor simply so as to kill Eragon, his own half brother-as Eragon had told them they were truly not siblings-and please himself.

Without a second thought, Murtagh picked up the dropped satchel of his and rushed out of the room, stumbling over the bodies of the two guards he had just recently killed, causing his arm to sag and sending a jolt of pain up into his newly broken shoulder. Even then, he did not cry out, and he was not scared in the least when he saw over a dozen more guards in the palace entrance. They would not put up much of a fight.

Only when he finally got out, and ran off into the forest and to the marsh where Thorn was waiting, did he stop to take in the pain, and only then he cry out. But he did not cry. He was not expected to. Heroes shed no tears.

_-POV change-_

Eragon knew luck would not be kind to them during this war, but right now, it was having a cruel time with him and the rebels, and it appeared it would not get any better.

First they had lost more than half their army at Feinster, and Queen Islandzadi, leader of the elves, had been killed, and now, for some reason, people had been falling sick and dying at Lithrin Swamp, where they had settled after winning at the location.

Of course, Murtagh had been sent out to retrieve the corpse of Nasuada and the last green dragon egg, but there was no large chance that Murtagh would come back with the items, or even come back at all.

He had, using non-verbal magic, sent out a ball of light to go deep into the heart of the swamp to find some answers as to just what was killing the people here for no reason. It had been two days now, and the ball had still not come back. Though with the recent events, starting from the war, it was not like Eragon was really expecting it.

Suddenly, there was a rap and hiss against his tent covering, and he heard a voice ask him, "Eragon, there is a matter to be discussed". It was Orik.

Eragon sighed and walked out of his tent, following Orik and several soldiers acting as his guards.

"What is there to be discussed, Orik? You know I am waiting for something important", Eragon asked as they traversed the slow-moving stream, where several people suddenly stopped to look upon him and bowed their heads in respect.

Eragon did not like it. He was one of the most powerful people of the resistance and perhaps their only true hope, yes, but the only way it separated him from the rule of Galbatorix was that Galbatorix's servants were forced to do it.

"I know you are waiting for something important, and this thing is what I am bringing you to", Orik replied as they came closer to where this important thing was waiting, judging by all of the people gathered.

"That is not what I am talking about, actually. What I am really waiting for is-", Eragon was saying, but Orik did not let him finish.

"We are here, Eragon, and whether it was what you were waiting for or not, it is important to all of us", Orik said. People went back as the important man came forward. It was Murtagh.

"Well, about time you came already!", Eragon snorted as his half brother took out the body and egg. "You were gone with Thorn on that mission for two days now, and all just to get a body and egg? I hope you have a good excuse, at most, for such an extended absence. I mean, honestly, Belatona cannot be _that _far away-!"

"You ass!", Murtagh suddenly screamed, and everyone went silent and stared. It was so sudden, and Murtagh's voice was so filled with malice, even Saphira and Thorn, and the Urgals themeselves, shrunk back.

"What, did you think I would be just another sheep that would blindly be you servant, Eragon? Did you think I would be a dullard and just submit myself? NEVER! You send me out alone or only with Thorn on all these deadly missions, just because it appears I am expandable. Yet I am the only other Rider besides yourself. Hmm. And more still, you treat me like garbage! I do all this for you, nearly getting killed just now, and this is what I get?! You ungrateful, thankless vermin! You are no hero, you are just another Galbatorix!", Murtagh ranted, and with that, he spat at Eragon's feet before stomping past him, Orik, Thorn and everyone else and into the camp.

There was an awkward silence, one only broken after a while by Saphira.

_Has he ever revealed any of these feelings to you at all?_, Saphira asked Thorn, who looked just as confused as everybody else.

_Never!_, Thorn replied. _He never once spoke of any of these feelings. It is unhealthy for my Rider to have such anger and resentment bottled up within him and not even mention it to me._

Eragon was left dumbfounded, and simply stood there, slack-jawed. How could his own half-brother, his _family_, say such horrid things like that to him? And worst of all, how could he call him "another Galbatorix"? Eragon was always left speechless whenever someone even tried to compare him to that Oathbreaker.

_You know what you have to do now, little one_, Saphira pressed to Eragon.

_I have to do something?_, Eragon telepathically asked her, sounding genuinely confused.

_Yes! Do not sound so surprised! You know how Murtagh feels now, and you know that you cannot just worm your way out of this way one! You must go up to him, and apologize!_, Saphira chastised.

_When have I ever wormed my way out of somet-_

_Do it now, Eragon!_, Saphira hissed.

With a sigh, Eragon turned around and left for the camp. As he was walking, he realized a floating ball of light bobbing behind him. It was the magic ball of light he had sent to detect what was in the swamp.

_-POV change-_

Angvard looked with venomous rage at the room. The place was wrecked, the body and egg were missing, and both that little red Rider and the Ra'zac, when he had come back to life, had left more than a small mess all over his palace.

"How could you let either of them _escape_?", Angvard roared at Odrin, the one who had tried to stop Murtagh and Voriadd, putting vile emphasis on _escape_.

"I already told you! I tried to stop that Rider, yet the blasted Ra'zac wanted him for himself, and so he tried to kill me! It was enough to let the Rider escape with the goods", Odrin yelled at the top of his lungs. He was getting angry at Angvard's stubbornness and continuous refusal to listen good.

"Do not raise your voice on me! I am a god, you burnt shell of a man, and I am a god that lets you when you can die-"

Out of pure frustration, Odrin had decided he had had enough. So, he punched Angvard in the jaw. Simply punched him. A loud crack was heard as Angvard stumbled back, losing his balance. Four guards rushed up to Odrin, yet he simply pulled out his sword and cut all of them in size.

"I've had it with you by now! You stubborn, deaf, two-face hack! I care not if you are some little _god_! You listen not to me, but to that ugly excuse for a soldier, _General Lyhnan_. Honestly, if that is your source of information and advice, I pity any of your decisions!", Odrin raged, not caring if Angvard was going to gouge his eyes out or reduce him to a pile of dust. He was not scared of a man wearing a gray bathrobe.

Angvard seethed with rage, looking directly at Odrin. He realized the man was not afraid of him, or anyone else. This was a man who wanted control, and he would take it from others the hard way if was turned down for him. Angvard could not risk his existence for that.

"Fine, you want me to listen to you?! Do you want me to give you leadership over my army? If that is what you want, then by all means, I shall give it to you!", Angvard said, seeing the expression on Odrin's face actually softening. Suddenly, a grin broke out.

"I don't want that. What I want is for you to stop being an idiotic, deaf man, and start listening to me. I think you should improve on that little quality", Odrin said.

"I know that grin, Odrin. I do not like it. What do you really want?", Angvard asked.

"What I want is for you to let me do just one little thing, one thing that you obviously overlooked:that Ra'zac is much more dangerous than you care to think, and I want you to let me kill it".

_-POV change-_

Voriadd's Lethrblaka walked around the swamp area alone, having at last healed from his wounds from that battle at Feinster. He was all alone, there was no one like him here. He was the last of his kind. He now knew what it truly meant to be alone. Not to be by yourself, but to be by yourself, and to not have anyone at all even remotely like you. Alone. Alone.

Suddenly, there was a snapping of a twig in the bushy overgrowth behind him. He turned his head, and looked closer into the overgrowth. Not even eyes like his could see a thing in there. Nobody was there.

There was another twig snapping, and something moved out of the bushes. Turning his head again, the Lethrblaka saw his brother. Voriadd.

With a shriek of joy and surprise, Voriadd's Lethrblaka ran toward Voriadd, who he knew had been killed and then twisted to the service of that monster named Angvard. Of course, Thorn and Murtagh had also come back, but he had always though there was no chance of hope for his brother. He always though he would have to kill him again to free him.

But never had it came to the Lethrblaka's mind that many times, miracles could happen without being asked for.

The two embraced, and began communicating in the Ra'zac language, chirping and clicking as they asked what had been of the other, how Voriadd had came back, what had transpired while Voriadd's Lethrblaka had been with the rebels, and most importantly, what Voriadd had learned at Angvard's Palace while he was under his influence.

_What strategy has Angvard employed now, after learning of his defeat here? Has he planned a direct assault upon us?_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka chirped as the mood of joy subsided, and it was back to thinking of the conflict at hand.

_It was apart of his strategy. Angvard wanted to get rid of his weaker underlings, and so he sent them here to either crush the rebels and get weakened, or get outright defeated. It unfortunately appears the latter part of his plan has come to fruition_, Voriadd clicked.

_Why would he want us to kill his whole army for him, even if he hates them? He hates us more, and it is not as if though we will be weakened to a point we may not fight!_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka asked.

_That is the point: Angvard knew the rebels would most likely win through sheer determination, and would afterward take time to set up camp and regain strength. However, this swamp is poisoned, and so then the rebels deciding to stay here would kill off a good portion of them and leave us too weakened to fight anymore, so as to kill the rest of us off with Angvard's stronger soldiers_, Voriadd explained, looking over his shoulder so as to make sure no one was there. He was never sure as to whether a spy of Angvards was there to hear and understand him.

_How gravely this will be taken by the others! To learn that our latest victory was merely another pyrrhic victory after the one at Feinster, to hear that our triumph was simply to benefit Angvard's plans-it brings meaninglessness to what we do. How enraged Eragon will be!_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka hissed as he shook his head.

_But we cannot mingle on our failures, brother! What Eragon thinks is what he thinks, and yet, we must push forward to keep our lives and freedom, and most importantly, to keep our blood running so should we die, our children may take up the sword and fight Angvard until he falls. Alagaesia may consist of many kinds of people, yet our belief remains united in freedom and the right to life_, Voriadd clacked.

_That belief may be perhaps the only thing to truly keep us strong against Angvard, brother. Galbatorix infringed upon it, and this Angvard scum is doing the same. Now is the time to let him know the people of Alagaesia do not take fondly to violent tyrants_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka said as he turned to out upon the swamp, and at the camp.

Voriadd knew what his brother was saying. Whether it would actually help against Angvard was not what should have been wondered about. Voriadd knew that what should be wondered about was whether or not that belief could last in a conflict such as this.

_**Chapter 8. There you have it. Not much to honestly say, except I hope I've made the Murtagh fans happy, and I hope Voriadd coming back was not too ridiculous and contrived. I also hope I managed to inject some humanity and development into the characters of Eragon and Voriadd. Anyways, R&R, cause RF is so far the only reader of this story or the past story(The Extinct Ally) to review. It would be interesting to know what others think of my story. ** _


	9. The Managing Of Problems

_**Alright, so after the previous three long chapters of CTE, I'm gonna do a relatively short and simple chapter here. Also, we're finally going to see Eragon mature and stop being an angsty bigot Rider. Here's chap.9.**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 9

Gourzier was floating alongside Odrin, and they were making their ways through the halls of Angvard's quarters, not really wandering anywhere as other servants of Angvard walked about. Though at least, they had purpose.

Gourzier was a spirit and had been the brother of Daghelef, a loyal servant of Angvard, and the two brothers had been separated until Angvard's invasion of the physical realm. Gourzier had never been happier when he finally saw his brother, but his joy soon turned to shock and disgust when he saw the massacre of innocent humans, and realized that this was what Angvard had meant when he said "a new dawn was coming".

After the Rider named Eragon killed Daghelef, Gourzier had never been more willing to carry out Angvard's cruel deeds, and he realized that only Angvard could provide him with a happy existence. Only Angvard could give meaning to a life of which had always been less than average. Only he could bring some sort of happiness.

Gourzier was no happier today than he had been the day he saw his brother die, when his depressed thoughts were interrupted by a snicker from Odrin. He looked up to see the half-burnt man grin at someone or something, and Gourzier looked to see it was Arya, the elven princess who had been killed and turned into an Undead Slave of Angvard's.

"You think I can get her to open her legs for me?", Odrin giddily asked as he saw Arya move across into the library.

"What is your problem, freak? Do you enjoy being an open pervert?", Gourzier disgustedly asked.

"What's the matter, _orb_? Jealous 'cause you know the elf's gonna have some action with me, while you're just a floating ball of energy? Besides, it's been a while since I've had some good "bedroom funtime", if you know what I mean!", Odrin sniggered before he started laughing.

_How is this funny?!_, Gourzier thought to himself. He had never once liked Odrin, not a bit. The man was a total psychopath, more cruel and disturbed than Angvard and Saibor, and he was a petty pervert. He had made it no secret that he did not like the fact there were no females at all in Angvard's New Empire before he took notice of Arya, and now _this_?

"You fool, you know Angvard will not even permit"-, Gourzier was saying, but Odrin had a thing for interrupting people.

"Oh, who cares for what Angvard says? You spirits are all the same-you follow one guy, and you refuse to take opinions from others! Blasted spirits like you, always by-the-book, no fun!", Odrin groaned, as he made his way toward the library.

Gourzier had no option but to follow. He had always felt pity for the elf, and he could only imagine her reaction if she learned of her mother's death at Feinster. Besides, he wanted to find out how badly Odrin would get his balls smashed in when he tried to make his advances upon Arya. At least that would be humorous.

_-POV change-_

_What else, Voriadd? What else of Angvard's plans have you learned while you were under his control? _, Voriadd's Lethrblaka asked his brother, Voriadd, as they made their way to the rebel camp.

_I have learned several thousand soldiers are under Galbatorix's command at Aroughs, and the half-burned man known as Odrin will lead at Urû'baen. You remember Odrin, do you not, brother?_, Voriadd replied.

_I remember Odrin all too well_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka hissed in reply.

_Well, brother, you can rest assured that this time, he shall be the least of our worries_, Voriadd sighed, remembering the moment he shot the flaming arrow at the barrel of powder, and when the explosion flamed over half of Odrin. The memory would never leave Voriadd, even when he died and his soul entered the afterlife.

_-POV change-_

Eragon knew he was expecting something bad, but he had not expected this news. The magical ball of light he had sent to detect what was killing people at the swamp had found out the area was poisoned. Eragon had not known much of Lithrin Swamp, but he scolded himself for being so close-minded. He should have expected Angvard to spring some sort of trap like this, though he had not expected the area to be naturally used against them;nevertheless, he should have realized something was going on when he realized how poorly the enemy had been fighting here.

He disintegrated the ball of light before he kept walking toward Murtagh's tent, hoping to resolve the personal issues his half-brother had. He did not want to, but he knew that if he did not do it now, he never could, and Murtagh would never acknowledge him again.

As he came to Murtagh's tent, he felt several wards push him back. Eragon was at a loss for what to do, but he remembered the word Galbatorix had used to completely destroy Eragon's wards at Aroughs:

Alzandair.

Eragon directed his thoughts at the wards surrounding the tent, and though he knew the spell would drastically reduce Murtagh's energy level, he whispered the words, and he felt the wards dissolve as he freely walked toward the tent, even as he heard Murtagh scream.

Sighing, Eragon moved into the tent, and before Murtagh could see him, he shifted some of his own raw energy into Murtagh so he would not feel so weak.

Murtagh suddenly sat up. "What do _you _want, bigot?", Murtagh sneered as he watched Eragon slide the tent back shut.

"I came to talk," Eragon simply said, sitting at the table nearest to Murtagh's stool.

"Well, you are not welcome here! You are going to leave without saying another word!", Murtagh roared in the Ancient Language. One could not lie in the Ancient Language. Eragon felt his heart sink as he knew it was going to be true.

However, before he could force himself to walk out, he replied, "I shall stay and discuss these issues until they are resolved, whether you like it or not!", also in the Ancient Language.

Murtagh felt his face wrench in disgust as he realized the words he just said now had no meaning, and were hollow. Eragon was twisting his own words and using him, he could just tell.

"Now, Murtagh, these personal issues you are having are not healthy to keep. Riders cannot be in such states of-"

"Oh, Riders _this_, Riders _that_, yet you yourself are defying their beliefs! You are lying to yourself, Eragon!", Murtagh hissed.

"Fine then, Murtagh. Let us start with how you feel about me, and let us see if there is any way to resolve it".

"Well, first off, you are a blatant racist".

"I am not!", Eragon screamed, as he jumped from his chair to face Murtagh. How could he say things like this?!

"Oh, you know it too well, Eragon! You hate Voriadd and his Lethrblaka, and for what reason? Because just a few of their kind killed your uncle and destroyed your house?", Murtagh asked.

"Murtagh, they _eat _people! How can you love creatures like that?"

"Eragon, you know it is their culture, their life! The Urgals love warfare and fighting, and yet, you now accept them as equals to the dwarves, elves, and humans. And that love of war is in their _culture_".

"But Murtagh, they are so-so-so, _disgusting_! Those huge lidless eyes, those hunched backs, the purple tongues and beaks! The Urgals simply have horns, that is all! The Ra'zac-they are almost _nothing _like us!", Eragon exclaimed. He was showing signs of desperation for such an explanation as that.

"Wow, that is quite stupid. So you hate them because they do not look much like you? You seem to be forgetting, Eragon, that dragons and werecats look nothing like us, yet you treat them with interest and wonder. Is that all? Because they look ugly?", Murtagh asked.

"Er, well, it is also because, like I said, they-er, they, they...". Eragon was trying to figure a new reason to point out that would make Murtagh realize the Ra'zac were pure evil, but he realized he could not find a single true reason.

"Exactly, Eragon. The only real reason you hate them is because they killed your uncle, yet even then, you cannot apply the actions of two, or if you add the Lethrblaka, four, to two entire species."

"Okay, fine, I have no real reason to hate them! I admit it, okay? I am a racist, and I am one for no good reason!", Eragon yelled.

Murtagh nodded. "Yes, and now that that is resolved, let us take a look at how you are a sociopath. Remember that time you and Arya were escaping from the path of Helgrind, when those soldiers attacked you? Do you remember when you strangled that young soldier, who begged for his life and gave good reasons, to death?", Murtagh asked, not caring when Eragon got that look on his face and started screaming at him.

"Who told you that?!", Eragon screamed, as the memories resurfaced.

He could remember that day-making their way out from the area around Dras'Leona, Eragon and Arya were suddenly attacked by Imperial soldiers. They had been able to quickly kill most of them, but one managed to escape.

Eragon gave chase, enraged for no other reason than the fact that this soldier was a servant of the Empire. Once he had pinned him to the ground, the boy began begging for his life, saying how his parents were so worried about him, and how he had only come into the army at fifteen years old because they had drafted him.

"Why, Arya, of course. Well, before she was killed," Murtagh replied, sighing as he remembered, when he himself was under Angvard's control, Angvard pouring in the memories of Galbatorix slaying nearly all of them.

Eragon calmed down, somewhat. He realized he had no good reason for murdering that boy.

"I-I honestly do not know. I think I did it just because he was fighting for the Empire. I do not know. My reason was clouded by my hatred for Galbatorix, and so I believed he deserved to die. But now, seeing that everyone is not so different-I never had a good reason for killing that boy," Eragon remarked, the disgust over the murder of that boy never having come until now, when Eragon realized Murtagh was correct-he was a sociopath.

Murtagh simply shook his head.

"Eragon, Eragon. You cannot _ever _let your beliefs stand above pure reason, even if you have strong beliefs, even if it means disgracing those who share your belief. Even if that boy was to spread the word of you and Arya, it was never right to slay him in the coldest of blood. You acknowledge your failures right now, as every normal person should. But this has all stained your blood, and even if you repent, it will always leave you marked", Murtagh said, standing up. "Do you understand, half-brother?"

"I understand, Murtagh", Eragon replied, nodding his head as he also stood up from his stool. "Are we upon good terms now?"

Murtagh smiled. "I believe so, if this truce does not lead to the death of us both".

The two half-brothers laughed, and were beginning to leave the tent, when Eragon stopped Murtagh and himself.

"I found out what has been killing people at this swamp. It is poisoned, Murtagh, and Angvard tricked us", Eragon said.

Murtagh merely shrugged. "Small wonder. I expected something was afoul at this disgusting place."

They finally walked out, happily striding through the campsite, when Eragon bumped into someone.

"Sorry about that! I was just not careful while walk-"

It was Voriadd.

_**So, now Angvard's secrets have been revealed to Voriadd's Lethrblaka, and soon to all else. I'm currently back in school, so don't expect quick chapter updates like this one forever. Also, I realized I have not payed much attention to the characters of Arya, Katrina, Solembum, and Angela. Yeah, well, they'll all get AT LEAST decent roles, if not large ones, in chap.10 and any chaps afterward. Also, this chapter shows that not every villain here who is a servant of Angvard is a complete monster. Some were just forced. R&R, readers and fans, and check out the Rise Of Extinction wiki. Here is the URL:www. Extinctallypedia .wikia **_ _**Where there is a space here, do not put it into the actual URL. Again, R&R!**_


	10. The Meeting of the Races

_**So, I've been quite a bit side-tracked with The Burning Of The Prowler and my new story Inheritance of the Slashers, and I've had heaps of unneeded work from my high school. And I've been procrastinating with this chapter every time I've had the chance, which I get is wrong. And this chapter won't be much longer than the previous chapter, and it's more of a build-up than anything else. And so here is chap.10 of Countdown To Extinction, fellow reader.**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 10

Angvard studied the elf pretentiously. He moved his bony, dry finger over her face, and into her ears, before pulling her lips apart. So delicate, so smooth, so soft and luxurious...

He turned to Odrin, one of his most prominent servants, and Gourzier, the brother of the fallen Daghelef. "What is the meaning of this?", he calmly demanded. He was not about to blow up out of rage-not just yet.

"Well, sir, I saw her enter the library, when she was _supposed _ to be monitoring Lyhnans scum battle-fodder. Gourzier and I entered and tried to reprimand her, yet she attacked without cause or reason, and now, she is no longer under your control", Odrin explained. Angvard looked upon him intently, studying his face for any creases, tension lines, anything to see if he was lying.

Gourzier could not believe it. Odrin was not only telling an extremely blatant lie, he could see the psychopath was getting away with it. He had to tell Angvard the real reasons, how Odrin had attempted to rape the elf. He could not let him get away with this absurdity...

...and yet, he could not utter a sound. For some reason, he bit his tongue. That is, if he had one, which he did not.

Angvard chuckled. "Is that all? My, how negative of a force freedom can be. How _decimating _it can be. And now you see why freedom is a horrible choice for any people. Since this elf had freedom, she did not care for the consequences of not being on task, and of defending herself out of pure _self-love_. Because of freedom, she can no longer enjoy the richness, the advantages of being one of my willing servants as you two are. All because of freedom. Freedom. _Freedom_."

The silence was disturbing. Usually, at this moment, Angvard would rage into some rant about how his servants were poor listeners, or how only Commander Lyhnan was his only truly loyal servant. Yet it appeared that was Angvards rant, and he had been so disturbingly calm during it, it seemed as if though it was a mere impersonator wearing the death gods skin.

"May we be excused now, sir? We have given you the information you have wanted," Odrin asked uncertainly. Even he was unnerved by the calm stillness in the room.

"And so you see why the people here of this physical realm suffer now, gentleman?", Angvard asked them, seeming as if though he had not even heard Odrins question.

"The people here, even under that bastard named Galbatorix, have gained too much freedom. It has corrupted their souls, their beings, and has twisted their minds to be terrified at true discipline, and true respect. This freedom has made them into slobs, making them believe they can do what they simply want. No punishment, they can simply dance around with impunity. However, once I conqueror this realm in full and slay those ragged survivors, I will take their souls and make them into citizens of my realm, of the Eternal Twilight, of Hell. Only then will they learn freedom is not the correct answer, and they will learn discipline, respect, and worship. Yet it is those rebels, especially that foolish Rider and his "friends" that stand against my rule, and it is by killing them that they will learn of the evils of freedom," Angvard lectured.

Gourzier could not understand what Angvard was talking about, and what made it that drove his pure hatred of freedom. Odrin simply looked like he did not want to be there at all.

"_Now _you may be excused, gentleman. I hope you have learned a valuable lesson or two today, of how freedom actually crushes an individual. Especially that elf," he said pointing to the elf on the bed. "Good day to both of you".

_-POV change-_

Eragon could not believe it. The last time he had seen the Ra'zac Voriadd, it was at Aroughs, where Galbatorix has slain him. From then on, he had learned Voriadd, along with the others Galbatorix had killed at Aroughs, had been resurrected and twisted into the service of the mad god, Angvard.

And yet he was now here, apparently back to normal, standing before him and Murtagh, Voriadd's Lethrblaka at his side.

"You are-you-you are _back_-you are actually back to life, Voriadd! You have been saved, by whoever-!", Eragon stuttered in disbelief. He knew his eyes were not deceiving him, and yet...

"_He _has saved me", Voriadd replied, pointing to Murtagh. "Without Murtagh, I would probably still be in the service of that horrid scum named Angvard".

"Me? How could I have possibly saved you? I was simply praying for my life when that half-burnt man tried to kill me!", Murtagh asked, his face twisted in utter confusion.

"Because. Were you not there, there is a good chance Odrin would not have tried to kill you, or even attack you, and I would have not taken the chance to kill you myself, which would inevitably lead me to try to kill Odrin and therefore unknowingly betray Angvard. You being there and Odrin trying to kill you is what led to Angvard losing control over me, in short", Voriadd explained.

"Just like how Murtagh was saved from Angvard's clutches," Eragon muttered, and Voriadd nodded as Murtagh looked at him, taking in the words.

"Just like me," Murtagh replied, his expression now blank.

_As much as you three might enjoy this, I believe it is time to move onto much more serious matters_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka groaned to them. _For example, how do we attack Angvard's Army next time, if at all? And just how what kind of forces does he have now, after his last weak soldiers got killed here?_

"Last weak soldiers?", Eragon asked.

"Yes. It was in Angvard's plan to draw you and the rest of the rebels here so you could be destroyed, only to weaken the last weak soldiers, soldiers of the utmost incompetence, or for you all to destroy the last weak soldiers yet stay here and get poisoned here at Lithrin Swamp so it could kill you all of," Voriadd replied to them.

"And I have just learned of the poisons in this place, after using a spell to find what has been killing the people here," Eragon told the three.

_Oh, good. More matters to discuss, I see_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka butted in. Voriadd groaned.

"If you truly want to stay cramped in some tent, discussing boring things such as strategy, then why do you not go do it by yourself?", his brother hissed.

"That is actually a good idea your brother has, Voriadd. If we actually take the time to discuss our plans and what is to come, perhaps we could be losing much less men at these battles," Murtagh told them. "I honestly believe every army that has failed has been a product of no cooperation amongst it's leaders".

"It is settled, it appears. We shall hold a meeting among our commanders to determine where to precisely determine where to attack next, and how to cope with the possibly strengthening of Angvard's Army. From what I have seen, this god has more than a few tricks up his sleeve," Eragon said.

"So be it, then, Shadeslayer," Voriadd sighed.

Eragon was stunned. "How do you know I killed Durza?"

"A better question is, who does not know you killed Durza?", Voriadd smirked.

Voriadd's Lethrblaka emitted a low groan, an obvious interpretation of a chuckle. Eragon shot him an annoyed look.

_-Later On-_

_So what do we know so far about these spirits?_, Saphira wondered to the people in the huge tent.

There were 22 individuals in total in the tent. Eragon, Murtagh, Voriadd, Thorn, Saphira, Voriadd's Lethrblaka, Orik, King Grimrr Halfpaw, Blödhgarm and his eleven elven spellweavers, Lord Däthedr, and Nar Garzhvog's brother Skgahgrezh were all crowded inside, the leaders and commanders of the rebels and of nearly every race in Alagaësia packed to discuss one subject:how to defeat Angvard and his Army.

Granted, they had discussed it before, but it was now more important than ever, seeing as how Voriadd had come back and how Angvard had fooled them again, this time at Lithrin Swamp.

"Well, from what I learned during my time as a slave of Angvard, they are perhaps the most powerful creatures that are not gods. They have more raw energy than Shades, dragons, elves, werecats, and Dragon Riders combined. Even if we took Eragon's ring, Aren, and combined it with every jewel in every pommel of every Rider's sword in history, it would pale drastically in comparison to the amount of energy in just one spirit. They can reduce an entire city several hundred miles away to nothing but dust just by thinking about it," Murtagh answered, and the people in the tent were unnerved by this telling of unnatural power.

"If what you say is true, Morzansson, then we indeed are powerless to stop this "Angvard"," Blödhgarm sighed. "Even with the powers of I, these eleven spellcasters, and every single magic user in this army, it appears Angvard's Army would throw mass slaughter straight in our faces, no matter how small their numbers become."

"And yet...", Eragon said.

"What is it, Shadelsayer?", King Halfpaw hissed. He was not a man for meetings, and he usually fell asleep during them, until somebody called his name.

"What if we are able to drain them of their energy, just as I have been able to drain energy from plants and store them in myself? Or how Saphira adds her own energy to me at times?", Eragon theorized.

_Eragon, you know I only give my energy to you at times just in case, when you might or really do need it. These spirits will not give us a thing willingly. Second off, we all know spirits have mental defenses and offenses stronger than even that of the Ra'zac and Lethrblaka. And third, even if we manage to subdue their minds, it will take an incredibly great amount of time to entirely drain them of their energy, and by then, the holds over their minds will probably be broken. And even if we manage to drain them of their energy, how do we know it will kill the spirits?_, Saphira objected, and Eragon sighed. He had failed to look over such obvious information.

"No, no, Saphira, hold on...Eragon might be onto something with this suggestion. One does not have to overtake another creature's mind to take their energy. If we are capable of suddenly draining the spirits of their energy reserves, they will be confused and surprised, spreading it among their ranks, and by the time they can react, we might be able to drain them of at least half their raw energy," Däthedr explained, before going on to say, "For example, like this..."

King Halfpaw's face suddenly went pale, and he started wildly rasping as he clutched his chest, heaving madly as he fell to his knees. His pupils dilated, and his lips quickly became dry, as he fell face-flat on the ground, before his normal color returned.

"See what I mean?", Däthedr asked them. Halfpaw looked up, his face contorted in rage, as he hissed, "After this war is over, elf, I will tear my fangs into your throat, and-"

"Precisely! Now, if that level of surprise by energy taking can happen to one person, imagine what could happen if we get all of our magicians to take energy from the spirits, all at once," Eragon pointed out.

_But like Saphira said, what if it takes too long? Surely the spirits will have realized and retaliated in a short amount of time, no?_, Thorn asked. Saphira snorted, _At least somebody realizes this plan has too much inconsistency!_

"Yet, are not spirits energy themselves, except living? What if we are able to drain _them _in whole, including their "bodies"?," one of Blödhgarm's elves, an elf named Wyrden, asked in reply.

"But what Thorn and Saphira are saying is, what if it takes too long, and the spirits realize and retaliate?," Skgahgrezh grunted. Blödhgarm looked to him.

"Then we will have to use a once-forgotten art," he said. "We will have to use Mind Wards."

"Excuse me?," Murtagh asked, raising an eyebrow. "I have not learned of such a thing from Galbatorix, and judging from what Eragon and Saphira taught Thorn and I of Oromis and Glaedr, they were not told of it either."

"That is because Galbatorix did not receive a long tutelage, just as Saphira and Eragon did not. Mind Wards are basically mental defenses taken to a higher level. They are like physical wards, except they are used to protect the mind without strain like normal defenses, and they do not drain away if the individual's mind is attacked. Like shielding spells, however, they may be extinguished at will," Blödhgarm explained. "However, they take much knowledge of the Ancient Language to properly fabricate," he added.

"Then it is settled. We shall use that tactic should we encounter any spirits, and we will implement it even without spirits just in case," Eragon said. The others agreed shortly afterward.

"Now, another question of much importance-which city should we attack next?," Orik said, and Thorn and Murtagh looked prepared to answer, seeing as how they were servants of Angvard, when it was Voriadd, who had been silent the whole time, who answered.

"Aroughs," he replied, shortly and simply.

"And why so?," King Halfpaw questioned. "What is so important about that city?"

"Because, it is where Galbatorix is stationed," Voriadd answered, his voice and face calm and smooth, yet his eyes burning with some kind of immense anger.

The air felt brittle, as if though it had been turned to glass. The silence was awkward, and all looked at each other. Eragon felt something rising in the pits of his stomach, some kind of rage, like vengeance.

"Then I say we should attack that place!," Eragon hissed, and all of the others turned to him in an instant.

"Eragon, just because Galbatorix is-," Orik was rationalizing, when Eragon cut him off.

"No! Do you not understand?! Galbatorix is the reason behind many of our sufferings! Angvard might be trying to kill us all, but it was because of Galbatorix that we all brought ourselves together! Do you not understand?!," Eragon roared, and Orik cowered like a rabbit cowered as a wolf was ready to tear it apart.

"If we attack Aroughs, we can also kill Galbatorix, and with him, satisfy our cravings for revenge," Eragon explained.

_He is right_, Thorn said. _Killing Galbatorix will not only pain Angvard, but it will allow us to take justice, and let us all show him how he has pained us in each of our unique ways._

"I agree. It is Galbatorix who threatened to eradicate the Ra'zac and Lethrblaka, who killed many of our surviving brethren, and who caused the death of my Lethrblaka's and my own grandparents," Voriadd hissed, and his Lethrblaka added in, _And he was the one who killed my brother at Aroughs the first time._

_And both Saphira and I have our reasons. First, he murdered most of our race, and it is especially personal to me, since he killed both my sire and grandsire at Aroughs, and long before that, my mother_, Thorn bellowed. Saphira snorted in reply.

"And for him treating me like a piece of garbage, killing me and my dragon at Aroughs the first time, and for killing Nasuada," Murtagh growled.

Eragon was surprised. He had never thought Murtagh had that kind of attraction toward Nasuada.

"I believe I shall speak for all elves in this tent," Däthedr said. "He has viewed us as unworthy beings, that is sure enough, and he believes us to be responsible for his madness. He has slain our king, the elven leader of the Riders Vrael, Oromis, and our Princess Arya. He has led to the near-extinction of the dragons, and it is time he receives his just punishment."

"And for using us as pawns in his campaign and murdering my brother Garzhvog," Skgahgrezh groaned.

They looked at Orik and Halfpaw. Orik stuttered, "W-w-well, you s-s-see, we dwarves really have no reason. I mean, we-"

They glared at him, looking as if though Orik had just said he had sided with Galbatorix himself.

"We all have reasons, Orik," Eragon told him. "Think hard-who was that that Galbatorix killed at the Burning Plains?"

"HIM!," Orik roared, and he looked toward Murtagh. "He killed King Hrothgar!"

"Nay, it was Galbatorix who possessed me to kill King Hrothgar, just as he possessed me when I killed Oromis and Glaedr," Murtagh explained.

"B-bu-, ho-how-," Orik stuttered in utter confusion.

"Now you have a reason, Orik," Eragon matter-of-factly said, in a rather dry tone. Orik sat there dumbstruck.

"And you, King Halfpaw?," Eragon asked. The werecat looked up, looking as if though he had not even heard what was going on. He had most likely fallen asleep again.

"Well, I guess we shall go to Aroughs, even if we really have no relations with Galbatorix. After all, somebody needs to sneak past enemy lines, and it is surely not going to be the giant Urgals, with their two-foot long axes," Halfpaw sneered.

Skgahgrezh raised an eyebrow. If he was offended, though, he did a good job of hiding it.

"Then it is settled. To Aroughs we shall go," Eragon said as he stood up, before he left the tent without another word.

_-Later On-_

As Eragon wandered through the camp, he caught someone out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head, and saw someone had not seen in a good while:Katrina, his cousin Roran's wife. Or used to be, as now, she was a widow.

Eragon walked up to her, and she did not realize until him until his shadow covered her. She looked at him, yet she did not break a smile, and her face seemed incredibly aged. Her eyes narrowed at him, and in a voice that obviously showed her displeasure, Katrina said, "Hello, Eragon."

"Er-hello, Katrina. How long we have not seen each other," Eragon replied, yet even when he stuck his hand out, she merely glared at him.

She began to walk away, and Eragon followed, until she slipped into her tent, and it took a moment for him to decide, and he decided to slip into the tent with her. She glared at him, and once they were both alone, she screamed, "What happened to my husband, you bastard?! What did you do with him?!"

Eragon stood in shock, until he remembered. Saibor, the shadow wraith. The one destroyed at Feinster, and his jailer. Eragon realized it was time.

And so he explained how, after death, Roran's soul was taken to Angvard's Realm while the Allied Army was marching through Aroughs on the way to Belatona, and how it was corrupted, tortured, and twisted into the wraith Saibor, and how he had no memories of his past life and was therefore incapable of being saved, and how he was killed forever by Murtagh and Thorn at Feinster.

"So you are saying my own husband became some sort of evil spirit under this _god?!_," Katrina growled through gritted teeth. Eragon nodded, before Katrina flew into a rage.

"You know why this all happened? Because of that Ra'zac, and his Lethrblaka! If they had never came, Galbatorix would have never attacked, Roran would have never died, and this Angvard would never have came to invade this place! You know what I think you should do? Get Saphira or Thorn to kill that Lethrblaka, and then, get Murtagh with you and kill that piece of huge-eyed, beaked trash!," she raged.

"Katrina, you know I cannot do that. Besides, just because the Ra'zac and their Lethrblaka attacked Carvahall and and did what they did to your father, it does not mean Voriadd-"

"Bah! You are becoming like Galbatorix, allying yourself with monsters and flesh-eaters! Get out! I do not want to see your face again, so long as you keep your alliance with this Ra'zac and his Lethrblaka! I will not raise my child around a man who is friends with beasts! Get out!"

Eragon scurried out of the tent, not wanting to hear what Katrina would scream next, and several of the men stopped and confusedly looked at the Shadelsayer and Rider run like a scared child.

_-POV change-_

Arya's eyes flashed open. The emerald-green in them almost lit up the room, and she saw the haggard beast in front of her, his back to her, the flesh on his body pulled back and torn. His scales were rotting.

She leaped up and drove her fist into the back of his head, instantly killing him. Blood splattered onto the ground. The light _thud _made by his dropping corpse attracted the attention of the guard at the door, only for him to turn his head and receive a dagger to the throat. Blood splashed onto Arya's face and the walls.

She raced through the corridor, and saw two more soldiers lumbering through the halls in her direction. They tried to signal for help, yet Arya was too quick, and they both fell dead in a near instant, their eyes stabbed out.

Arya leaped over the railing, and landed on one of the non-humanoid demons under Angvard's control, crushing it to death instantly with a sickening crunch.

She tore through the door, not caring for the other guards and demonic beasts, who saw her and shrieked for assistance. It was too late, however, and by then, Arya had already escaped.

She knew where she had to go now.

_**And so ends Chapter 10. Now, with Arya coming back, and Arough being the rebels' next destination, what do Eragon, Saphira, and the rest have in store? And what shall Angvard do once he learns he's getting fewer and fewer allies? R&R, please. Please, somebody other than R.F review. Even if you don't have an account, please review, even Anonymously. **_


	11. The Battle for Aroughs-Part I

_**And now comes both the eleventh chapter, and the first part of the most important battle so far in the series. Eragon and Saphira lead their allies and the rebellion to Aroughs, to tear down Angvard's New Empire further, yet leading the soldiers of Angvard there is a resurrected Galbatorix, and he has received orders to use an unknown, yet incredibly deadly and outright destructive weapon to destroy the rebellion and even Eragon himself, if need be. Will Eragon be able to settle an old score, or will his soul be claimed like the thousands already at hand? There is only one way to find out, and that is by reading this chapter...**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 11

He smiled.

Angvard could not help but be amused by the fact the next city the rebellion was attacking was Aroughs, where Galbatorix was commanding. That Rider would be so enraged, and with that so distracted, when he came face to face with the fallen King, his attention would slip, and he would fall as his rage took over his attention, and before everyone knew it, the boy named Eragon, their _hero_, would be in his hands, the rebellion would be crushed, and the physical realm would be just another travel site in his kingdom of death. He believed that by the end of the week, it would look like the physical realm had never even existed.

Of course, he could be wrong. There was a good reason he wanted the Rider, and that was because of his tenacity, ambition, and ability to lead. Saibor and Daghelef had all those things like the Rider, and yet, they had been slain quickly, and that was because they didn't hold the one trait the Rider had:keen insight. Without it, his other leaders had been thrown aside like a wilted plant. If that boy could slay Galbatorix and win back Aroughs(unlikely, yet sill), then that was someone he indeed wanted to use as his pawn.

The Rider and the Mad King would meet again at Aroughs, just as they had before in that fortunate moment.

Angvard indeed had a twisted sense of humor.

_-POV change-_

Eragon imagined one of those hulking beasts in Angvard's Army was standing right in front of him. However, this one was at least eight and a half feet tall, and armed with a six foot double axe, and covered in a thick layer of pure, solid forged iron.

He imagined the beast roared before lowering his axe, ready to hack Eragon vertically in half. The axe was rushing down, sharp enough to rip through flesh and bone unhindered. Seeing no time, Eragon raised Brisingr and struck the handle of the axe, creating sparks as he parried the blow and pushed the axe back. Taken aback, the soldier stood in utter surprise for a second, before he turned the axe to an angle at the side, and swung it again, this time in an effort to decapitate Eragon. Yet Eragon had already predicted such a move, and ducked as the axe missed, before he thrust Brisingr up into the soldiers gut, cutting through his armor like butter, before he heard the imagined nasty squelch. The soldiers jaw dropped, and his eyes bulged, as he slid off the sword, and fell backward.

Eragon stood up again, as he rejoiced over his imagined victory. If he could best one of those huge monsters in his mind, then he could surely do so in reality. At least, that was what he hoped.

There was a hiss from the movement of the cloth making up his tent. "May I please enter?" he heard Voriadd ask.

Eragon turned to the opening flap in the tent. "Of course, Voriadd. You may enter. Besides, I have no things of importance I am doing right now that you may intrude upon," he replied, nodding. The Ra'zac slipped apart the flap as he made his way inside, gazing briefly at the copy of _Domia abr Wyrda_, before he turned to Eragon. "I thought Galbatorix wiped out all copies of that book after he did the same with the Riders."

"Well, I got this one from a good friend of mine," Eragon answered.

"Jeod?" Voriadd sardonically asked, and Eragon was shocked Voriadd knew the man. "You know of him?"

"Of course. That man would keep and support a text such as that," he hissed. "It, Shadeslayer, is riddled with lies about the Ra'zac and Lethrblaka. Heslant the Monk knew very little of our two races that was not already widely known, and what with being a human, he made up what he did not know of, rather than go find out for himself. Many would call it the ultimate history guide to Alagaësia . I call it the greatest piece of human fiction written."

"Hmm," Eragon grunted in response. He had always thought of the _Domia abr Wyrda_ as the last piece of true, untainted knowledge before Galbatorix had came to power, and believed it to be the finest accounting of Alagaësia. Apparently, Voriadd knew otherwise.

"So,er-what did you come to talk with me about now, Voriadd? I'm sure it was not just about one little history book!"

Voriadd cleared his throat. "I have come to discuss with you the state of our troops. We only have around 12,153 left, and we do not have enough food, armor, and weapons to keep the army going. I believe we will only be able to last around two more months before our food and weapon supplies fully deplete."

"Well, we still have Horst and his sons with us, and they were smiths in Carvahall before fleeing, and still are smiths. Maybe we can send them a request to hurry with forging the new armor and swords before the next week is over. I still don't know what we can do about the food, yet maybe we can get several elves and magicians to use growth spells to speed the process of growing the foods," Eragon suggested.

"Good," Voriadd grunted, nodding. "Because honestly, I am outright sick of eating and drinking mashed flour and marsh water."

Eragon chuckled. "Aren't we all?"

_-POV change-_

Arya slammed her fist into the beasts gut, sending it flying into the amethyst chandelier and tearing up its large intestine and, in the process, ripping in half its esophagus.

Angvard had been sending troops after her each and every day after learning of her escape, and each day, it was something worse. At first, it had simply been the standard soldiers he used for battles and whatnot. Yet after realizing they were no match for the elf, he decided to send his less sentient, and much more hideous and aggressive demons after her. They were just ugly, large creatures which looked like crosses between bats and scorpions, but after several days, they took on grotesque and disturbing looks. One, for example, had the face of Eragon but the body of her mother, and the voice of the half burnt man named Odrin, all while brown boils grew its arms and groin. She hoped she would not have to face anything else like that.

She peered at the balcony, and after seeing it was clear, climbed up the ladder and onto the balcony before slowly slipping open the door to the room.

"You sure that elf is dead, Drgnazalw?" one of the soldiers hissed to his companion, who spat and turned over a nearby table.

"How many times must I tell you?! YES! I saw that explosion at the warehouse! _Nobody _could have survived that! Nobody! I admit, yes, that it took several of our men with it, but I am telling you, that explosion blew that blasted elf to smoldering little bits! So, to answer your question-yes! I am _sure _the elf is dead!" the one named Drgnazalw roared. His companion shrunk back.

"Are you sure nobody could have survived that?" Arya sardonically asked as she fully opened the door and stepped into the room, pulling out the dagger she had taken from a soldier she had killed.

The two hulking beasts turned their heads toward her, and stood dumbfounded for three seconds. They then quickly unsheathed their swords and bellowed at her.

Yet their three seconds of shock was enough for Arya. Rushing forward, she swung the dagger with all her might, and Drgnazalw's throat was ripped open. She then turned to the next soldier, and smashed her fist into his head twice in rapid succession. Each time she hit, some of his brain and pieces of his skull splattered over the floor and wall.

Tearing off his belt, she unbuckled everything from it, spilling the contents.

It was all useless material issued to them from Angvard.

Something, though, caught her eye.

Breaking the glass cylinder to little shards, she unrolled the torn brown parchment, and studied the gibberish, possibly the written form of whatever language these demons spoke.

It was not. Looking closer, she found it was a tactical map, leading to where the rebels were currently located. Lithrin Swamp. And with it, the path to the nearest city. Aroughs.

Rolling the map back up, she placed it inside her right pocket, as she stood up, and leaped down from the balcony. She was no longer going to idly stand by in this war.

_-POV change-_

Deep in the southernmost canal leading into Aroughs, there it lied:the Urthnas, the most destructive weapon in history. There were multiple Urthnas, and just one was capable turning an entire fifty mile wide city into a crater, of which would be uninhabitable for at least eight hundred more years. It was how Angvard had already conquered many other realms, and how he had destroyed countless cities in the process.

The Urthnas were cylindrical in shape, and around twenty six feet long. They weighed approximately seventy eight pounds, and were crafted from various combinations of magic, obsidian, heated and pitted elm wood, and salt water from the seas of Angvard's Realm. If fired properly and directly, an Urthnas would completely vaporize all living and nonliving material in the blast radius.

Angvard had given Galbatorix specific orders:he could not fire the Urthnas at all, unless troop numbers were getting incredibly low and much of the city had been conquered. Even then, it would not only destroy the rebels, it would tear apart the entire city and even the army at Aroughs and Galbatorix.

But Galbatorix, despite being a mere Undead Slave of whom had no distinctive thought of his own, had other ideas.

_-POV change-_

Odrin slept, and in his slumber, his memories became cruel nightmares, memories of a life he wished he could wipe from existence.

He had married three women during his years as the wealthiest man in Teirm, a time when he did not know Angvard had even existed. A time when he was careless, reckless, and, in the truest sense, a playboy.

However, two of those women were nothing but drunken whores, and the only reason they even bothered to marry him was because he was incredibly wealthy, and that was that. They had no true love for him, not even an attraction to his appearance, and so those two marriages were incredibly unhappy.

The third wife, though, was the exact opposite. She loved him, nurtured him, and found him to be much too attractive. And unlike the other two wives, she was naturally beautiful, and he found her to be not just a companion, but a real _soul mate_.

"Did you finish your shipments for today, Odrin?" she asked of him when he had finally came back home, after a particularly long day of work at his business.

"You know I would not come if I did not, sweetheart," he whispered to her, smiling as he pulled her forward and let his lips make contact with hers. At first, it was just their lips meeting, but after a few seconds, they began truly kissing, and he gently moved his hand up and down her upper body, but stopped when he felt the odd bump on her stomach.

"I have never felt this before," he said to her. "Is it some kind of rash?"

His wife grinned, and shook her head before she began laughing and pulled Odrin to her and wrapped him in a huge hug.

"I am pregnant, Odrin. You are going to be a father!" she screamed with glee. It took a second or two before he fully processed the information, and he grinned slyly. His laughing began slow and hoarse at first, but it quickly built into a giant stream of endless laughter, of the most intimate joy and delight, of which could never be matched.

He was going to be a father.

It then shifted to one the most painful memories. He was busy ordering his servants about, and getting ready for the party, of which he would host. The most important guest, of course, would be the governor of Teirm, Lord Rësunlf, and his wife. That was when his wife came up to him.

"Odrin, the healers say the baby will most likely come to birth in two months. When will we be making preparations?"

He moved his fingers through her hair, smiling. "Oh so soon, sweetheart. I shall be getting you and all else prepared in the next week, but for now, let us prepare for the party, alright sweetheart?" She nodded and smiled as well, though there was something in the smile of which was tinged with sadness.

That was when the door flew off its hinges and crashed into the wall, breaking in half. A Ra'zac then quickly stomped in, a bow and arrow ready and in hand, and on his sides, there was a dagger and sword.

The vigilante Voriadd.

The wanted posters were all over the place, demanding citizens turn in the Ra'zac and his Lethrblaka either dead or alive-dead got you more money-and stop the man, who had been assassinating and coldly murdering both criminals and several key people connected to Odrin and his business, which in turn, had badly hampered his product shipments.

"Party is over," he growled before he struck a match on the tip of the tar coated arrow, and pulled the bow, firing into the midst of the servants.

There was huge explosion of orange and red flames, instantly killing six people while setting ablaze and scattering the rest. Two tables and over a dozen chairs were sent flying and cut down more servants and guards. Right away, there was violent pandemonium and confusion, and Voriadd slid out his dagger and killed several servants and guards of whom were either running madly confused, or were standing there dumbfounded.

"ODRIN!" his wife shrieked, and she grabbed him by his shoulder as he turned and started to run away. "Please, Odrin, please-do something!"

"It would be too dangerous!" he shouted. "Quick, come with me! We have to get out of here!" That was when Voriadd turned toward him.

"_You_," he hissed with vehemence deep in his voice. "I have finally found you, Odrin, the slimy leech that you are. You have evaded me for _three whole months_, but now, you have nowhere to hide. And when you shall now finally meet your demise, I will brand your forehead with the seal of my Ra'zac tribe, to let all know what you have done."

"Thara, run upstairs-NOW! Get out of here!" Odrin screeched, but it was too late. Voriadd loosened the arrow, and it zipped directly toward his eye-

-and his wife, Thara, leaped in front of him, screaming, "_**NO! DON'T!**_" That was when the arrow hit her in the stomach, right where the baby bump was.

She dropped to the ground, slumping lifelessly, when Voriadd fired two more arrows into her back.

"Odrin..."

And her eyes closed, as her head hit the ground.

The memory changed to when he was sprinting away from the barrel of pitch and tar.

"It appears, then, that you have decided your death, for as you run, you realize your desperation, and with your desperation, comes judgment for your crimes," he muttered, before he let go of the bow, and let the flaming arrow hit the barrel right in its center.

He was almost to the railing on the open window, when he heard the blast, and felt the heat rushing toward him, the fire sounding like hundreds of flags flapping rapidly at once. He turned for a brief still of a moment, and gazed at the yellow flames. That was when the fire rushed up and cocooned over the left of his body.

"NOOOOOOOO!" he screamed as he suddenly woke up from his nightmares. He heaved heavily as he gazed around the dark room, enormous beads of sweat all over his body, dark rings under his right eye.

He looked down, and saw the disheveled blankets were all over the place, and his sheets were a whole mess.

His gaze hardened.

He would kill the Ra'zac, and then, perhaps the memories would die away.

_-POV change-_

The cold wind blew through Eragon's face and hair, and for the first time in what seemed to be a pure eternity, he felt free and relived.

Flying on Saphira gave him something nothing else-not love, not food, not family, not fighting-delivered:calm over his thoughts and actions. Maneuvering through the clouds was an actual slice of bliss, and in this war, it was a needed painkiller.

_Oh, how long we have not whisked our way through the clouds, which have not been so white in a while. It is good to feel this freedom, is it not, Saphira?_, he asked Saphira in a pleasant, soothing tone. She growled in approval.

_Aye, the world never seemed free unless we soared, and soar high we had to so as to escape the troubles of life. That reminds me-how far are we now from Aroughs?_, she replied.

_Only around eight miles now, Saphira. And when we finally get to that city, we will show Angvard his ideas are the height of folly, and he shall regret ever attempting to invade_, he snarled to her, and she roared her approval, a roar of which challenged the pathetic beasts fighting for Angvard, their master.

_And Thorn and Voriadd's Lethrblaka and I shall be busy ripping their innards to shreds and setting their corpses ablaze while you focus on that philosophy of yours._

Eragon smiled. If there were any race he could use for wreaking pure havoc, it would be a dragon, though he was soon to realize the Lethrblaka were just as unrelenting and ruthless.

_-POV change-_

Murtagh felt worry for his partner of heart and mind, his dragon Thorn. He tried asking him what was it that was recently worrying him, yet Thorn had constantly been saying he was fine, and whenever he tried looking into his innermost thoughts, Murtagh was constantly shoved back out with an angry force his dragon had never used against him himself.

_You know_, Murtagh began, _I will not be disappointed with you or whatever is plaguing you at the moment, Thorn. It is not good to keep inside of you your darkest feelings. Tell me, Thorn, why are you so troubled at the moment?_

His dragon instantly tuned upon him, and lashed against his mind with an unmatched, unnatural ferocity that tore in half the defense Murtagh tried to put up, and ruined the mental lances Murtagh tried to use against Thorn's own consciousness.

_You think you can understand what I am going through, Murtagh?! You think, you know the way of _my _rage, my very emotions?! Your little counseling methods will do nothing to help me cope with the anger in my truest thoughts!_, Thorn raged in such a voice, it made Murtagh wish to plug his ears in and be done with the whole situation.

_I am simply trying to help you!_, Murtagh cried, causing Thorn to smash into his mind again.

_Your help is not able to quench the thirst of this anger, Murtagh! Only pure vengeance and the spilling of blood will satisfy me, once it is done!_

_What in the world are you talking about?!_, Murtagh asked, in a puzzled manner, for his dragon had never once been so outright enraged.

_The fact that the egg-breaking wretch named Galbatorix is leading the men at Aroughs, that is what I am talking about!_, Thorn roared.

_What of it?_

Thorn's mind glared at Murtagh. _He-he is the one of whom has slaughtered my sire and grandsire,and yet, eve if we destroy him, as we should, the fact is my vengeance will still be unsatisfied! My family will still be enslaved by that cowardly mongrel named Angvard, and so the death of Galbatorix will be meaningless!_

_How can you be certain? By killing Galbatorix, you will still not be able to bring back your father, but you shall avenge him. Is that not what you have been trying to do, ever since you were freed from your service? To see that your father did not die with no resolve?_

Thorn's anger softened, though it certainly did not go away. _But even if I avenge, it will not change the fact that he will still be in the service of a mad ruler, this one quite worse than even Galbatorix, mind you!_

Murtagh sat silent for nearly a minute, examining over the sentence Thorn had just uttered. At first, he though Thorn might as well be correct, and that a fact like that could not be contested with any unconfirmed beliefs, reassuring as they might be. The, he had a thought.

_But by slaying Galbatorix, Thorn, you will be doing your father a great honor, and respecting his name, as is it not what your father has always been trying to do? Kill his false Rider? You may not be able to bring him back, yet, but you will avenge him in part, and you will honor his name. The Son of Shruikan, bringing honor to his family._

Mulling over the words carefully, a cloud of calm and relief finally came down over Thorn and his mind. _You speak wisely, my Rider. Though I cannot resurrects him, killing Galbatorix will restore honor to my father, and soon, this rat named Angvard will see the true folly of treating my family as a play thing!_, he hissed as he let loose a triumphant roar, and beat his wings, releasing a short stream of ruby fire.

_As they only should_, Murtagh replied as he smiled, relieved his dragon was finally back to his usual self.

That all changed when Eragon came violently into his mind.

_MURTAGH!_, Eragon screeched, so much to the point it made his brain throb. _We are under assault! Angvard has posted the primary phalanxes several miles ahead of the city, in anticipation. The battalions are attacking us with everything they have at their outright disposal, including catapults, __trebuchets__, ballistae-oh,by the gods..._

_Eragon!_, Murtagh cried. _Calm down, and start from the beginning! What _exactly _is going on?_

_Saphira and I were flying toward Aroughs with everyone else, and then several of their arrows h-h-hit Saphira in the...the wing. I healed her, but they were firing so many, I just could not-I could no-I CANNOT TAKE IT ALL!_, Eragon shrieked in a demented, inhuman voice.

_ERAGON! Calm down right down! Please, slow down-_, but as Murtagh said this, his connection to Eragon's mind went dead suddenly, only for something..._else _to creep into his mentality, something dark and ominous, something made of a cool, collected psychopathy.

_There is no Eragon. There is only the blackness of the void, and the harmony of a coming death._

And with that, a chorus of agony, hatred, rage, and above all else, blood-stricken death, rushed into Murtagh's mind, the unholiness of it all seeming much more like thousands of voices were beating at his mind rather than just one. Regardless, though, the screeching insanity beat at him, more than willing to destroy him from the inside and onwards, and grind his bones into fine dust. It was overwhelming. It made Murtagh wish to simply tear out his own heart to get rid of the voices, though he knew they would be just fine with that.

He thought that, at first, the entity was using a collection of eldunarí to assault him, but as the chorus ripped through more and more of his mind and sanity, the terrifying truth caught up to him.

It was none other than Galbatorix.

_NO! Stop! Get out of my mind, you wretched corpse!_, Murtagh cried, yet he himself knew his words were barren, meaningless, and pathetic as a mouse's squeaks. This only caused the chorus to rise in its disgust, and grow stronger as it ate at his sanity.

Just as the chorus was about to dominate Murtagh's mind though, a bright light, one of hope and an admirable tenacity, rushed in, and clawed at the chorus. The voices shrieked their protest and fought back, only for two more minds to fuse with Murtagh's and push back the enraged chorus.

_Murtagh!_, he heard Voriadd, of all people, call to him. _Galbatorix is assaulting our minds with a brutal tactic learned from Angvard. He attacked the minds of my Lethrblaka and I already, yet we conjoined our minds and, combined, managed to hold them off. Once he began ripping at Thorn's mind, though, we knew he would do whatever possible to destroy us beyond relief._

_Murtagh, you must listen to me_, Voriadd's Lethrblaka hissed. _You must meld your mind with Thorn's, Voriadd's, and my own. Together, we might be able to completely drive off Galbatorix's mind._

Understanding, Murtagh extended his thoughts into that of Thorn's, Voriadd's, and Voriadd's Lethrblaka's, and with their minds seemingly one(especially with the fact that Ra'zac and Lethrblaka were masters at shielding their minds), the chorus of negativity roared in protest and clashed with their minds one final and violent time, before whimpering and retreating.

_Very clever, mice. Clever, that is, for vulturous cowards. And yet, there is nothing you can do now to save your hero Rider and his whore of a dragon, as nothing shall be able to save his wavering sanity, and should you intervene in my fight, I will crush you into a fine powder of embers, and then stamp you into this blasted earth_, Galbatorix growled.

_Impossible. We have already managed to drive you from our minds combined, so what makes you think we cannot just connect our minds with Eragon and Saphira, and together, tear you apart?_, Murtagh scoffed.

_Murtagh, please, be careful..._, Thorn whimpered.

The disgusting noise of Galbatorix's mental laughter then filled their minds. _You are a cocky idiot, son of Morzan. You obviously do not know Angvard has taught me many new powers, some of which cannot even be tried by lesser beings such as you in this realm, and of which dwarf your pathetic attempts at gramarye. Now, hush yourselves!_

And with that, they were each cut off from each others minds. To his horror, Murtagh discovered he could not touch the minds of _any _living thing at all, not even the field mice, or birds, or even plants.

The only thing which encompassed his mind was the growing image of his father, Morzan, standing before him, brandishing Za'roc, and hissing, "_And still, you try to disobey me. You stain my name, my honor, with your support of the rebels. How petty..._"

With that, Morzan rushed forward, Za'roc cutting through the scar running from Murtagh's back, his son shrieking in utmost pain.

_-POV change-_

Brisingr flashed bright blue as it slammed into the hilt of Galbatorix's black Rider Sword, not even making a scratch as it released a mighty _clang_. Seeing the left of Galbatorix's torso fully exposed, Eragon snatched the opportunity at, at most, grievously wounding the undead slave. He took a step back before thrusting Brisingr, and then curving it down at the precise moment...

...and at that moment, he screamed, clutching at his right shoulder as he fell, sharing Saphira's pain through their bond. The huge and hideously gross scarab-like beast which was currently tearing at Saphira had already made short work of her left wing, with a good chance it would never properly heal, and the green-white enzyme it had spat onto her right forepaw burnt right to her muscles, damaging her nerves.

_It appears reason has not forced you to already surrender, Farceslayer. Yet perhaps, just perhaps, force shall_, Galbatorix hissed, before he ripped into Eragon's mind once again, and replaced most of his current thoughts and memories with gruesome images, including of a man grabbing his two children and forcing them to jump off a roof with him and onto a bed of nails, while another featured a young woman's head hitting a table, herself now dead due to basically _overeating _to death.

And then, just as quickly, these gruesome images were replaced with his original thoughts and memories, disorientating him and causing him to lose track of his identity. Taking advantage, Galbatorix swiftly kicked him in the jaw, sending him flying back into a slaughtered group of soldiers.

_Unable to use your mind to reach for help. Not even able to connect with your own dragon. You say you wish to reform the Riders, and yet, you cannot even share a bond with your own dragon. Do you see? All you have fought for is for naught._

"You-you hypocrite! You and Shruikan never shared an actual bond, and you have the damn nerve to criticize me over not being able to connect with my dragon? You Oath-Breaker! You-you shall fall prey to failu-!" Eragon roared, and just as he was to finish, his mouth was clamped shut.

_I shall fall prey to failure? Look closely around you-I have caught your army by surprise, you and your allies may no longer use your minds, and Saphira is no match for the Skrønag. The only thing you have done so far is what few have truly done to me-annoy me. __**I do not like being annoyed.**_

_**Too long of a wait, I understand, but I have other stories as well, you know. Besides, I am back in school, and the sheer amount of uncalled for homework is both ridiculous and time consuming. I originally wanted to do this as one whole chapter, but the amount of school and time I had said otherwise. So, the second part should come soon, in around a month or so, so donlt have yourself waiting too long. R&R, please!**_


	12. The Battle for Aroughs-Part II

_**All I must say here is this shall be the final chapter of CTE. Not the longest, but the final one. So, here it is, at last.**_

Countdown To Extinction

Chapter 12

Rushing forward, the resurrected Galbatorix plunged his pitch black Rider's Sword right down to where Eragon's chest was. Barely managing to roll out of the way, Eragon stood up, dazed, as he brandished Brisingr in front of him.

_Are you blind, child? Do you not see you have already failed, as death stands in the flesh?_, Galbatorix sneered, his mental voice sounding like bricks rubbing against each other, much unlike his sly speaking at Aroughs the first time.

"You are not death," Eragon hissed, though even he knew his words were hollow. "I shall kill you, and savor the moment when you get ran through with Brisingr."

Galbatorix laughed again, racking Eragon's nerves. _What about what you said to Arya? How you would not kill me unless Nasuada said so?_

"Don't you dare use my own words against me, you monstrosity!" Eragon roared, rushing toward Galbatorix, who simply stepped to the side, confusing the Rider.

_Ah, and what happened to your approving Nasuada? Ran through, by my very hand! And your little Arya-how much you loved her, enjoyed her presence! And now, she is with Angvard, like all of your other friends!_

Smashing the hilt into Eragon's side, Galbatorix slashed Eragon's left shoulder, before smashing his head into the ground.

Even as this happened, Saphira struggled against the Skrønag, roaring in pain as its mandible ripped into her left knee, pressing deeply, the huge insectoid beast literally drinking in her blood. Enraged, Saphira opened her maw and unleashed a blue and yellow torrent of flames at the Skrønag's face. Though the creature turned, it still squealed in absolute pain as it's left shell covered wing was reduced to ash.

_What is wrong, __**Morzansson**__? You killed a Shade, and those disgusting Ra'zac, those ugly beetles! Why can you not slay me? Did you want a fair fight? Did you __**think**__ this would be a fair fight?! Were you sad because Arya could not help you? Your father is laughing at your uselessness!_, Galbatorix laughed, smashing Eragon's head over and over into the ground, as he turned the Rider around so he could face him.

Spitting blood into Galbatorix's face, Eragon raged, "My true father will never laugh at me! He would teach me, help me-something you could never do because your father was such a castrated cripple who like having the tongues of other men up his ass! Is that why you never smile, cause your father never hugged you?!"

His sneer vanishing, Galbatorix's mindset turned from joyously overconfident to uncontainable rage. Slamming his fist into the Rider's face, he tossed him to the side, before picking his sword back up.

_You will drown in your blood because of me, Rider. I am well known as a man of my word_, the undead mad king growled. Moving slowly forward, he prepared to split Eragon in half from groin to head.

_-POV change-_

As Murtagh slayed another one of Angvard's soldiers, his mind flashed with the same image of his father tearing through him with Za'roc. Screaming in pain, Murtagh tried once more to contact Thorn or Eragon or anybody, only to find his mind was still shut off from all but Galbatorix. Were it not for seeing the giant shadow falling and coming closer to him, he would have been crushed by the boulder being dropped by the Krhn-ylkhl, which ended up splattering several of the creatures in the process.

"_Why do you try to avoid me, my son?_ _We are one, and the same!_" Morzan cried.

"I am nothing like you, father! I am no monster!" Murtagh roared, clutching at his throbbing head.

"_You wield my sword, Misery. You ride upon my dragon. You cannot deny it, my son-you are the child of a Forsworn. And the world shall hate you for it, forever more._"

"No-no!" he cried, as he sank to the ground.

"_My son, come and joyfully trumpet hope everlasting with me. Destroy these rebels, and fight alongside Galbatorix and I. Come!_" Morzan sang, his grin filling Murtagh's mind.

"No," Murtagh moaned, his sanity and hope drowning in the sea of horror tearing at his mind, his spirit burning to dust.

The sight of his father was suddenly bleached by a bright white light, however, which began filling his mind and pushing against the image of Morzan, as well as the presence of Galbatorix. This white light was one of bright hope, and peace, and serene unity, the exact opposite of Galbatorix's mentality.

"_You!_" Morzan shrieked, his grin fading into an absolute sheer look of terror, his eyes bulging.

_I_, the presence affirmatively answered, before it blasted a wreath of blazing white flames at Morzan's chest, reducing the image of the Forsworn to a blanket of white-hot ashes, before the light expanded and obliterated all traces of Galbatorix's presence, throwing away the dark mentality, destroying the undead mad Rider's hideous thoughts.

His energy suddenly rushing back, Murtagh stood, and his mind looked in awe at the presence.

_Thank you, I mean it!_, Murtagh said, his sanity returning slowly. _Who are you, that dared to come save me?_

The presence began leaving, its light shrinking, and Murtagh could barely hear its answer before it left.

_Umaroth._

_-POV change-_

She could hear the din of the battle, the clashing of swords, the cries of the wounded and dying from both factions. She saw Saphira's upper jaw get broken by the barbed leg of the huge Skrønag, only for her to claw through the beasts right eye.

And she saw Galbatorix slowly move toward Eragon.

Realizing she could nto stand in the sidelines much longer, Arya exhaled as she ran toward the city of Aroughs.

Eragon could not destroy that abomination by himself. That, she was sure of.

_-POV change-_

Crouching, Galbatorix moved his sword to where he wanted to start cutting Eragon in half. Right between the legs-yes, that was certainly where. As he pressed forward to start slicing, though, he saw a circular shadow coming closer toward the Skrønag, falling from the sky.

Realizing it was one of those Krhn-ylkhl, Galbatorix snarled before he stopped the boulder in mid-air, tossing it aside, crushing a ballistae.

Turning his attention back to Eragon, he attempted once more to start cutting, but was interrupted by the Skrønag's screams.

_-POV change-_

Saphira roared right in the Skrønag's ugly face, before slapping it with her right forepaw.

_You-I shall crush you like the bug that you are, disgusting demon!_, Saphira growled to the Skrønag, who screeched in response. It attempted to shoot another stream of the corrosive enzyme at her face, which would have killed her then and there, but she luckily bowed her head and let the liquid melt a group of axe carrying demons behind her. She snarled as she smashed her head into the beasts face, tearing a good portion of the hard shell away.

She knew she could not take off into the sky and fight like a dragon fiercely would, for her left wing was tattered to pieces, and would be completely useless unless it was healed-and very _quickly_ at that.

Suddenly, a great circular shadow formed over the Skrønag, and she looked up to see it had been one of the Krhn-ylkhl. She grinned in thanks to the giant black bird like creature, which cawed back at her.

_Well, at least those Helgrind priests know how to make use of their talents_, she thought to herself.

Her relief was turned back into frustration, when the boulder stopped before flying to the side, crushing a ballistae which had just fire a flaming javelin to a group of Angvard's soldiers.

Knowing it was Galbatorix, she was angry she could not intervene and save her Rider, and tear Galbatorix to pieces in the process, for she had to kill the Skrønag.

The next few second were a blur. As she tried to turn and hit the creature with her tail, a blaze of red flew by and covered the Skrønag with ruby red fire, completely incinerating it. With a roar, Thorn landed, allowing Murtagh to leap off his saddle and unsheathe Za'roc, swiftly decapitating several of Angvard's soldiers. As the Skrønag screamed, it tried to fly, but with only one remaining wing, as well as the fact it was quickly turning to ash, it soon fell over, dead for good at last.

_Saphira, go with Thorn and and tear into the city. I shall stay and help Eragon fight off Galbatorix. I am the only one who knows him and his tactics best, even better than Thorn. He might not expect to face two riders at once_, Murtagh said to Saphira. She eyed him, knowing well he wished to fight Galbatorix for revenge, but said nothing as she prepared to toke to the air, Thorn ready to follow.

_-POV change-_

Realizing Saphira would be useless in the air unless her left wing was healed quickly, he pulled out one of his Eldunarí and, with its energy joining his, began strapping her wing back together, making sure to not miss a single membrane or bone. He kept his focus even as he moved toward Galbatorix, who had heard the Skrønag's screaming and taken notice of the Red Rider, his already angry face contorting and twisting further.

_So, you as well have come to try your hand in besting me? Then this shall be most interesting-the sons of Morzan, a family finally united after years of strife!_, Galbatorix sneered mockingly.

"You are mistaken. Eragon had told me the truth, which seems to have escaped you-Brom was Eragon's father, not Morzan. We only share the same mother," Murtagh said in reply, ignoring Galbatorix's attempts at offense.

_My, my, fate has humor to it, does it not? The sons of Brom and Morzan, fighting side by side. This, I shall enjoy. Fortunately enough, I cannot say the same for you!_, Galbatorix laughed, holding his sword back up, ready at last to engage his former apprentice.

Murtagh took the opportunity to try to search into Eragon's mind, and found that his mind had only been blocked off from Saphira, not from everyone else.

_ERAGON, NOW!_, Murtagh cried through their telepathic link, and for a second, he thought he saw Eragon grin.

Leaping off the ground, Eragon roared maniacally as he smashed the hilt of Brisingr into the back of Galbatorix's head, before he dug the blade into the former kings stomach. Ripping it free, he then nimbly sliced Galbatorix's left cheek, before he was thrown off.

Distracted, Galbatorix did not see Murtagh charge forward and tear Za'roc through four inches of his lower back. Turning around, Murtagh managed to smash the hilt of Za'roc into the kings face, breaking his nose with a sickening _crunch_.

Kicked in the gut, Murtagh was sent flying and crashed into the remains of a trebuchet, wincing as the splinters cut the back of his arms. He heard several ugly guttural roars, and opened his eyes to see several particularly huge soldiers of Angvard. Realizing swordplay would not do much good against those axes, he shouted, "Brisingr!" and watched as all of the soldiers waiting for him went up in wine red flames.

Scrambling back up, his eyes widened as he saw Galbatorix holding Eragon by the throat, knowing he was strangling him. Not thinking, Murtagh stood and ran full speed toward Galbatorix, hoping to catch him by surprise once more, only to hit some invisible barrier and fall back.

_No more surprises, Morzansson_, Galbatorix hissed, Eragon's face turning purple, not even a faint crack escaping from his crumpling windpipe. All the while, Murtagh found himself no longer able to move, his rage towards the king growing as he saw he was actually smiling through it all.

_-POV change-_

It was now or never.

Eragon would die in just a minute if someone did not stop Galbatorix.

Murtagh could not move.

Saphira and Thorn were already too far into the city.

Voriadd and his Lethrblaka were occupied at the mills near the gates.

Arya closed her eyes, as she inhaled.

She exhaled.

She opened her eyes, drawing her dagger, and sprinted forward.

_-POV change-_

Eragon could feel his grasp upon life fading, his lungs being crushed down in size, as Galbatorix did not stop pressing at his throat.

His face turned purple, his eyes bulging, as his sweat came down in waterfalls. He could already feel his heart calming down rather than speeding up as usual, as if in preparation of his coming death.

_And yet still, you fail_, Galbatorix said. _All you have fought for is in naught._

In a blur, he dropped Eragon. The Rider gasped for as much air as possible as he set himself free.

He could not understand why. He had held on as tightly as possible.

And then, the pain struck him like a jet of flames.

His left arm had been completely, cleanly sliced off in a single stroke. He looked to the side to see who had dared to do it.

That damn elf.

_Her_.

Arya.

Clenching the blood soaked dagger tightly, she thrust forward and managed to catch him on the sternum, cutting it in half. With blood filling his lungs, his anger clouded his mind and vision, and he punched her, sending the elf flying back into a smoldering pile of rubble.

Knowing she was unconscious, he smirked as he turned back to the Blue Rider.

His right hand suddenly went empty.

His jaw dropping, Galbatorix saw his black Rider's Sword had flew out of his hand and into the chest of a nearby unfortunate soldier of Angvard.

Bromsson's magic.

_You-!_, he began to scream, but Eragon was standing up, and smiling.

"All you have fought for is in naught," he spat, before Galbatorix looked up to see the closing in form of Saphira.

"_Now, Saphira!_" Eragon shouted.

Swooping lower, Saphira roared as she opened her maw and breathed forward a column of blue and yellow flames, all of which covered Galbatorix.

As his body turned to ash, the quickly crumbling shape of Galbatorix stepped forward twice towards Eragon, before it fell to the ground, dead.

Dead at last.

The Oath-Breaker, the Egg Smasher, was finally dead. Dead at last.

Finally standing up, Murtagh walked over to the burning outline and spat at it venomously.

"And good riddance!"

_-At Belatona, in Angvard's Palace-_

Failure.

His plan was turning to failure.

Galbatorix had not even been resurected.

He had been killed for good, turned to a pile of ash.

His greatest Skrønag, bred specifically for the Mad King and fallen Rider, burnt to a smoldering crisp.

Angvard's plan was crumbling for all to plainly see.

The War of the Undead would come to an end very soon, if this pattern repeated.

No. It could not happen again.

Not while he actively participated.

_**All I have to say for this is R&R. The sequel and final story of this trilogy will come in around seven months, at least. For now, I will focus on my other stories, and I really hope you enjoyed this one.**_


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